


Pragma(tic)

by writing_seconds



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Battle, Bucky Barnes AU, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Comfort, Daddy Issues, F/M, Greek gods, Hades and Persephone, Language, Older Women, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Second Person, flangst, he is persephone, loss of limb, you are hades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-01-30 17:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 111,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_seconds/pseuds/writing_seconds
Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 58
Kudos: 183





	1. The Gods Live

When the mortals came up with their gods, they didn’t have much to go on. They knew what they could hear and see. 

Small whispers from above, figures in the night, golden blood stains on rocks, their own reality. 

They knew that none of this happened on their own, that there were forces behind it all. They knew the gods existed. They knew they managed different aspects of the world. They knew that they were friends, family, enemies… That they all lived together on top of Mount Olympus.

They gave them names, identities, faces. They successfully identified the individuals in charge of the aspects of life, but what they failed to identify were their true selves.

They told their stories, drew their faces, gave them names, but they couldn’t imagine how wrong they were. Having never met the gods in person, they only guessed. Not all their stories were true. Not all the facts were right. They’d get the basics wrong because that’s what humans do; they guess and they make mistakes. For one, the names they gave them, they weren’t the gods’ true names. They never were Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades. They were Carol, Natasha, and (y/n). 


	2. Her Morning Takes a Turn

The sun was golden against your skin, filling it with warmth and color you rarely ever got. Birds chirped, filling the air with song, and people chatted warmly all around you. You could hear laughter, squealing, sounds of joy and happiness. It was so _different_ from what you were used to.

You exhaled sharply as you opened your eyes, turning your head on a swivel to observe your surroundings.

The open-aired cafe was nestled in a quaint corner of Olympus. Minor gods occupied the tables around you, some accompanied by nymphs or other sprites, others by children, and others still alone. No matter their social situation, everyone looked happy and content. Small children ran between the tables, playing tag and laughing, while their mothers talked and chatted over brunch. You recognized some of the gods and goddesses around.

Peter, a dryad, was at a table with some of his friends. They were all crowded around a phone and laughing to themselves. They seemed to be watching a funny video. If you had to guess, it was probably a silly trend or meme from the Mortal World.

Hope, the goddess of victory, was chatting with her friend Scott, the god of the home and hearth. Both of them had a sandwich and a cup of coffee straight from the Mortal World in front of them, though the food was almost completely forgotten as they talked to each other, deeply engrossed in their conversation.

Small children, nymphs and naiads, ran between the tables in games of tag, squealing as one was dubbed “it” and began to chase the others. They laughed with childish ecstasy, displaying the joy they had in abundance.

The whole area was just alive and warm. It was so foreign to you, but you had to admit that you didn’t mind it. 

The sound of bickering voices drew you from your observations, and you turned your head to the two women before you.

The blonde, your beloved youngest sister, goddess of the sky and queen of the gods, Carol, was sitting up straight, her shoulders rolled back proudly. She had a smug smile on her face; she was obviously winning the argument—something about a dress she said she was going to wear to the Winter Solstice Gala that was coming up in a few months.

The redhead, your younger sister and goddess of the sea, Natasha, was a little more agitated, though it was a sort of playful frustration. She was hunched over with her eyes narrowed at her sister as she insisted, “Carol, that’s my dress.” 

Carol shook her head, her smile only widening. “No, it’s mine. I bought it from a noble lady in London. I remember it as clear as if it was a century ago.”

Nat arched an eyebrow, her lips curling down in a sour frown. “Are you sure you remember it correctly? I could’ve sworn that I bought that dress a couple centuries ago. No, I know I bought it from Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1160.”

You scrunched up your nose. Twelfth-century English fashion? Definitely not your cup of tea. But you remembered the dress vividly. It was a green thing that really complimented Nat’s eyes and hair but with a style that did not meet your preferences.

Your sisters continued to argue about whose dress it was.

You, meanwhile, watched them with amused eyes, shaking your head as they bickered. Your sisters were always ones to fight constantly, though it was always in good nature. They argued about the silliest things that happened millennia ago—who a goat sacrifice was meant for, who got the sea and who got the sky, who got to be the patron goddess of this city-state or that one—and now, they argued about whose clothes were whose. It was comforting to see that some things never changed over the centuries. Every brunch consistently ended with them bickering over the smallest things. Their sandwiches and mugs of their favorite coffees were long forgotten as they got into it. You’d learned to live with it and just let them duke it out; so long as they didn’t actually kill anyone that is.

But listening to them bicker eventually grew boring and tedious and you’d had enough. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, shrugging off your black blazer which had grown sweltering hot in the sun as you went. Now just in a dark grey tank top, your pleated black pants, and a pair of black flats, you felt much cooler and were ready to end the arguing and your misery. “Come on, both of you,” you called, cutting them off. 

They paused their argument and turned towards you, their gazes questioning and demanding as to why you had interrupted them.

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? Guys, this is like the only time I can see you for the next month and you want to fight about something stupid and childish?” You grinned at them, your eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. “I wonder why I let you two pretend to be older when you’re so damn immature.”

Carol gasped with mock offense. “You’re only older than us by a decade or two.”

“A decade or two is all it takes, my dear youngest sister. Don’t let the power of your queenship go to your head; I’ll always have sibling superiority over you. And, as the eldest, I say no more bickering.”

“But—”

“It’s Nat’s dress. She did buy it from the queen. There, argument over and you can stop bickering now.”

Nat laughed with an elated “Ha!”

Carol huffed, the breath from her mouth ruffling the hair that framed her face, and gave you an exasperated smile. “Fine, it’s Nat’s. I’ll give it back. We’ll stop bickering. What do you want to talk about since you’re so opposed to hearing our arguing?”

You simply shrugged. Ninety percent of the time you were cool with any topic of conversation, even if it meant listening to their banter, but not today. 

It was one of the few times you dared to venture out of your realm. Being the Queen of the Underworld gave you little to no time to leave. There were always so many things to do and duties to attend to that you rarely made it out for brunch with your sisters on Olympus. Occasions like this were supposed to be a time for you three to catch up, gossip, and bond, not to bicker endlessly about pointless things.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admitted.

Carol opened her mouth to respond, probably with a snarky remark about how you ought to know what you want to talk about before interrupting an already started conversation, but Natasha beat her to the punch.

“Hey, how’s Mom doing?” she asked, her eyes curious and her posture hunched in to listen. “You saw her last weekend, right? She doing well?”

You nodded, a fond smile pulling at your lips. Out of all your siblings, you were probably the closest to your mother, Rhea. She made a trip downstairs to see you almost every weekend for brunch and to catch up. You’d say she liked coming down so often because it was out of the way and far quieter and calmer than either the Mortal World or Olympus, but you knew it was because she loved your dog. “She’s doing fine.”

Carol leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table, suddenly very interested in this new topic of conversation. As the youngest of you three, she probably had the least amount of time with your mother. But, then again, she was the only one who didn’t get digested and got to see Mom the most in the early years. “Is she still working in that mortal hospital?” Carol asked.

You nodded. “Still in the labor ward. She’s the ‘best labor and delivery nurse they’ve ever had’ last I heard.”

“Well of course she is. She is the titaness of motherhood and ease, among other things,” Nat remarked. She shook her head. “I just wish she’d spend more time up here rather than with the mortals.”

“You know that some of the gods don’t like her,” you murmured. “She’s a titan. They don’t trust her. She’d rather be among the mortals who don’t know her for who she is and help them out.” You shrugged. “Anyways, Carol, how’re your queenly duties going?” You wanted to change the topic away from your mother. While you loved talking to her, it was always weird talking about her with your sisters. They didn’t know her like you did; they didn’t know her in the beginning.

Carol hummed. “Oh, you know, they’re going fine. I have to deal with people’s shit all day every day. You’d think that we gods, being as old as we are, would’ve already worked out our problems by now. I mean, Wanda and Pietro still bicker about who’s the better archer, Loki still plays rude pranks, I can barely keep the newer gods in line. I swear, once they find out they’re immortal, it’s a shit-show. They take on the most daring dares and wreak havoc on the Mortal World any chance they get. I know they don’t always mean to be a pain in my ass, but it happens. Oh! But did you hear? The Muses are planning a concert. They’ve got music from…”

And that was about the point when you tuned her out. You didn’t always care about what responsibilities came with ruling Olympus, but you did enjoy seeing her getting excited about the things in her life. She might’ve been a queen, but she was still your baby sister. 

As Carol continued to rant and rave about the concert, you failed to notice Natasha sliding her chair closer to you until she was right on top of you.

“So, (y/n).”

You jumped in your seat. She’d snuck up on you, quiet as the gentle sea she ruled over. You glanced sideways at her, your lips curling back in a sneer. You knew that look on her face and you didn’t like it one bit. “Nat… Don’t you even think about it.”

Natasha smirked, her outward expression cool and collected, but her green eyes roaring like waves on a stormy night with devious plans. “Oh? Think about what, my dearest sister?” Her voice was sickly sweet and practically dripping with honey. 

You narrowed your eyes, your heart dropping in your chest as it steeled itself against what was coming. “You look like you’re trying to play matchmaker and thinking about setting me up with someone again,” you spat. “Well my answer is what it’s been for the past two thousand years: no.”

Carol had stopped talking about the Muses and was now looking at you with pitiful and sad eyes. “(y/n)…”

“Don’t ‘(y/n)’ me, Care. I’ve told you time and time again, I’m fine. I don’t need to go out on a date, I don’t need a boyfriend or a girlfriend, I’m perfectly happy alone.” You didn’t need any of the trouble that came with a steady relationship. You’d had your fill of that over the years. Hands running down your body, lips kissing your mouth, flesh pressed against flesh… You shuddered.

“We know,” Nat said as she tried to placate you, “and we admire you for your strength. ‘You’re a strong independent woman who don’t need no man’ and all, but we think it might be good for you to go out and try to meet someone. That way you wouldn’t have to be so alone down in the Underworld.”

You frowned. “But I’m not alone down there. I have Cerber—” 

“Cerberus,” they finished in unison.

“We know,” Natasha continued. “But we think you’d benefit from some human contact once in a while. We know you still see Mom, and that Clint and Pierce visit you on their errands, but most of the time… You’re all alone down there and we just think you’d be happier if you had someone. I know I’d have already lost my mind underwater if I didn’t have Bruce to keep me company, and Carol wouldn’t be able to stay sane if Maria wasn’t with her.”

Carol nodded in silent agreement, her eyes pleading. “We just want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” You could feel small bits of agitation rising up in you as you stared them down. The world began to tint red in your sight.

Natasha bit at her lip as she stared you down. “(y/n),” she said, her voice taut and stiff with caution. “Your eyes.”

You turned towards her. 

Her body was rigid and alert, almost as if she was preparing to defend herself. She only took that stance when something made her nervous.

And that something was you.

You sighed and mumbled, “Sorry,” before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in through your nose. 

_In, out. In, out. In, out._

When you opened your eyes again, the world had returned to its normal color and you were a little calmer. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your head dipping down in a nod. You heaved a sigh and pursed your lips. “Guys, look, I really appreciate you thinking about me and my happiness, but seriously, butt out of my love life. I don’t need anybody; I’m perfectly capable of ruling the Underworld on my own.” You shifted in your seat and averted your eyes. “Besides, I don’t think anyone could really handle me right now.” Also, you had the feeling that no one could give you the long-lasting love you craved.

Both your sisters went quiet, their eyes downcast and solemn. 

You couldn’t help but feel bad for telling them off again. You knew that they just wanted what was best for you, but at the same time, you knew yourself better than anyone. You knew you didn’t need to be set up and that, when you were ready, you’d find someone yourself.

You cleared your throat and began to pull your blazer back on. “I should probably get going now,” you said, grabbing a black handbag that was sitting beside your chair and pulling the strap onto your shoulder. “Lots of things to attend to down under. It’s time for the weekly check on Tartarus.” You inhaled sharply and rolled your eyes, hoping to convey a feeling of exasperation to them. You had no intention of letting them know that you were over godly contact and ready to go home to peace and solitude.

Natasha chuckled. “I don’t know why you don’t send Pierce to do it. He’s capable.”

“Yeah, he’s capable, but you know how persuasive our father can be if he gets into somebody’s head. And, although Alexander is a great god of death, I don’t necessarily trust his mental strength against him. It’s just best if I do it. I know his tricks, I know his lies, I know how to resist him.” You gave your sisters a small smile. “Take care, you two. Tell Maria and Bruce I said ‘hi,’ and don’t go burning down the world before our next brunch. The Underworld is full enough; we don’t need any early arrivals.” You stood up and pushed in your chair.

Carol stood up and made quick strides across the table to your side. With one fluid motion, she reached for you, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into a hug. She held you tight. “We miss you up here, (y/n). Please, don’t be a stranger, and come back more often.”

You hugged her back tightly. “I’ll try. When things start calming down again, I’ll come back.”

“Just make sure it’s before another half-decade has passed!” Nat called from her spot off to the side.

You pulled away from Carol and shot your other sister a teasing glare. “Then tell the Fates to stop throwing me curve balls and fucking up my life!” You slid over to her and hugged her as well. “Don’t forget, you can always come down to see me instead. I know it’s dark and gloomy down there, but I’ve remodeled my house and I think it’s really nice.”

“So you’re out of your gothic phase?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up. “Gods, I thought we agreed to never speak about that again. I liked the architecture!”

“Mhmm, and the black clothes, and the heavy eyeliner,” Carol began to list, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh, shut up! The castle’s gone. No more gothic. Now it’s more modern. Have you ever seen those American houses where they’re an open concept, all sleek and box-like?”

Both your sisters nodded.

“It’s kinda like that.”

Natasha whistled. “Nice. Is it still black?”

“Of course.” You chuckled. “Could you imagine a bright yellow house in the middle of the Underworld?”

“It does sound ridiculous,” Carol admitted. 

“Exactly. The black is there to stay.” You smiled softly and took a small step away from your family. “I’ll see you both later.”

Carol’s lips twitched up in a sad smile as she brought a hand up to wave at you. “See you soon.”

Natasha simply nodded at you, a tiny smile of her own on her face.

And then you turned your back and walked away from them. You made your way to the cafe’s gate and pushed it open, making your exit.

It was a short walk back to the main road of Olympus. It was easy to know when you’d arrived because street vendors crowded the sides and people filled the streets. Gods, goddesses, nymphs, naiads, satyrs, and all other sorts of creatures bustled around, darting in and out from stall to stall. Families with children stopped to chit chat with each other, couples held hands as they browsed, and singular people shopped with a purpose. Everyone had a smile on their face, everyone was happy. For a normal person, the path would be almost impossible to navigate. 

But not for you.

The second you got within five feet of a nymph or naiad, they stiffened and the hairs on the back of their neck stood up. They sensed the death that surrounded you and instinctively inched away. Their heads were put on a swivel as they searched for the source of their discomfort and, when they saw you, they prickled further and took a step out of your way, clearing your path.

It used to bother you how they’d avoid you like the plague but now you’d come to accept it. You reeked like death; they sensed it; they didn’t like it. You learned almost two thousand years ago to not take it personally. They didn’t hate you, they just hated what you were and what you stood for. Besides, you never had to be stuck in foot traffic. 

You sauntered down the opening in the road, going as quick as you could so as not to disturb them any longer, but not in a rush. Though you knew you weren’t welcome by most of Olympus’ citizens, you quite enjoyed the feeling of the sun on your skin whenever you came. The feeling was alien to you, but it was pleasant enough to make you want to bask in it for as long as possible. 

You made your way up the road, slowly climbing closer and closer to the golden palace of the gods where your youngest sister lived. It was in her front yard where you could safely make your way home without pissing anybody off.

After all, the quickest way back to the Underworld was to have the ground swallow you up. The journey didn’t leave any gaping hole behind you—the ground always closed up after you sank in—but it did leave an Asphodel flower in your stead. 

Carol didn’t mind having the flowers dot the lawn of her palace. Most Olympians hated the sight of them and saw them only as a bad omen, but Carol knew there was nothing really wrong with the flower. The reason they got such a bad reputation was that they were linked to you. 

Asphodel flowers only grew in the Asphodel Meadows in the Underworld. Mortals believed they had a positive role in the Greek afterlife, but not the Olympians. To them, the immortals, anything related to the Underworld was taboo, almost like it was death itself. Things touched by death and the Underworld were considered dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. You learned a long time ago that if you let the ground swallow you up and plant a flower in your place, the area where you left would be avoided for decades even after the flower had died. It caused a lot of inconveniences for the Olympian people, so you just decided to avoid public places and go to your sister’s yard instead. It was cleaner and less of a nuisance for others that way.

You strolled into the palace’s yard, treading down towards the furthermost corner of the area. There, a small garden of Asphodel flowers lays perfectly still and undisturbed. They’d grown to be as tall as your waist and they shuffled as you moved about them. You tried to keep the garden as small as possible so as to not “contaminate” a large area. You stopped in the center of the garden and dug into your pocket. Your skin hit tiny seeds—Asphodel seeds—and you plucked one out before dropping it onto the grass. 

The seed sank into the dirt, disappearing almost immediately, and the ground rumbled beneath you as it began to tear itself apart. It caved in, carving out a tunnel for you to sink into.

You simply crossed your arms, closed your eyes, and rolled your neck to stretch. You’d made this journey so many times that the fall hardly phased you anymore. You remembered doing it the first couple of times and panicking as you fell. Now, it was as easy as taking a step. 

You dropped through layers upon layers of rock, finally breaking out into a chasm. Your feet hit the ground and you bent your knees to absorb the impact, straightening up when you were steady. You rose to your full height and stood tall, gazing down a mountain at the whole of the Underworld.

You’d been deposited right on the front stoop of your mansion. Perched on the top of a small mountain, you could see everything from the front door.

At the far reaches of your kingdom, you could see the place where the Cocytus, the River of Wailing fed into the Acheron, the River of Woe, which stood as the border between the Mortal World and the Underworld. The far bank of the Acheron was crowded with souls waiting for passage over the water and the near bank was organized with lines leading up to and disappearing into the judgment pavilion. From the pavilion, three lines branched out and led to the three sections of the Underworld: the Asphodel Meadows, Elysium, and Tartarus.

The Asphodel Meadows spanned the majority of the large chasm that was your domain. The flowers swayed without a breeze, instead moved by spirits who wandered aimlessly. It was a place for those who had led ordinary lives, not good enough to achieve Elysium, but not evil enough to deserve Tartarus. The Meadows were as calm as calm could be, perfect for walking your dog or lazing around on a rare free day. Billions of spirits resided there, all of them calm, gentle, and ordinary.

Elysium, with its warm atmosphere, beautiful gardens, and elaborate homes sat just off to the side of the Meadows, its entrance near the base of your mountain. Sanctioned off by towering gates and walls, it lay separate from the rest of the Underworld. It was the place where the best of the best lived after death, filled with kind, generous, and beautiful souls. The souls that had been reborn and achieved Elysium three times lived on the Isles of the Blessed which were three little islands that sat in the middle of a lake in the heart of Elysium. You loved walking down the streets in Elysium. Everyone was so friendly and not a soul shied away from you. They had no reason to fear death; after all, they were already dead. Some of the spirits that had been there long enough were friendly enough to invite you for dinner on the occasional evening when they’d catch you patrolling the streets or walking Cerberus. Those were the nights you enjoyed the most. Mrs. Thomas made a fantastic roast chicken. It was truly a good place to be.

And then there was Tartarus; the “pit”. You shuddered just thinking about that place. It was where the evil souls went when they died, a place of torture, punishment, misery, and pain. It was mainly managed by three of your lieutenants known as “the Furies.” When they weren’t pursuing the wicked in the Mortal World, they were overseeing the torture of the worst of the worst deep in the pit. It lay just beyond the main body of your realm, accessible only through a cave that carved a hole in the outermost wall of the chasm that was the Underworld. The Phlegethon, the River of Fire, with its angry red flames that leaped out at anybody who dared get close to it, flowed into the tunnel taking up half of its opening. The river flowed deep until the point when the tunnel opened up to a cave. Dark, sharp stalactites hung from the cave’s ceiling, ready to fall at any second and impale those beneath them. There was a hole in the middle of the ground that seemed endless, but really, it fed into the real Tartarus. The river flowed into the pit, turning into a waterfall as it roared down. It was a long way down, said to be “as far beneath Hades as heaven is above earth” if you read that epic The Iliad from some Greek guy named Homer. It was about a nine days’ fall to reach the bottom of the pit where the souls were tortured and the worst beings were imprisoned.

You’d only been down there once, millennia ago, when you locked up the bastard you called “Father” and his brothers Crius, Iapetus, Coeus, and Hyperion, and you never wanted to go down again. It was nothing but red and angry. The Phlegethon was even more violent down there than it was in the main Underworld as it tore through the terrain. Tartarus itself was like a whole new world. It was seemingly endless, but it only had the one exit. One could get lost and be trapped there for eternity if they weren’t careful.

It was at the far reaches of the pit, farther than any soul or spirit dared to venture, that you imprisoned your father and uncles, binding them with the strongest chains you could make and sealing them with every spell, curse, and enchantment that you could think of. Layer upon layer of protection was placed upon them, making it nearly impossible for them to escape. You separated the five of them and placed them as far apart from each other as you could so that they could not feed on each other’s strength and escape. Your uncles, as formidable of foes as they were, were no threat to you anymore. They’d gone dormant after the first thousand years or so, reserved to their fates; but not your father.

Kronos continued to fight against his restraints, trying every day to escape, spending as much strength as he could muster to fight your barriers against him. Over the centuries he had succeeded in breaking some of them, specifically the old ones you had placed when you’d first imprisoned him. He was always chipping away at them, trying to weaken them enough to break free to exact his revenge on you and your sisters.

But you’d never let that happen. That was one of the reasons you made your weekly ventures to the edge of the pit. From up above, you could cast more spells to strengthen and set more layers on his bindings. Every week you added more and more to his cage, replacing those he broke, rejuvenating those he damaged, and adding new ones as an extra precaution.

Your sisters were fair to wonder why you didn’t let your inferiors or lieutenants take care of this task for you, but you had your reasons.

For the first couple of years that you guarded his prison, you did let some underlings take care of it. Peggy, your second in command, best friend, and the goddess of magic, volunteered to take care of it while you worked to get the Underworld under control and install order. She did a good job of keeping the spells strong and watertight, but she wasn’t infallible.

Your father, the extremely powerful titan that he is, found ways to let his conscience escape and make its way up to the surface. He would get into her head and anyone else who got close and twist their thoughts around, slowly turning them to his side and against the gods.

It took you a decade to notice that Peggy was under his control. You’d had your suspicions that she wasn’t herself, but it was when she tried to pull a knife on you and slit your throat that your suspicions were confirmed. It broke your heart to have Cerberus restrain her while you reached into her head and yanked Kronos out. Her screams still haunt you to this day. 

But from that day on, while Peggy was recovering, it was you that took care of the cage. That was how it should’ve been in the beginning, but you’d let her take on that responsibility for you. Never again would you subject another being to that. You did not know what it was like to have him in your head, but you had an idea of what it was like in his, and you couldn’t bear inflicting that kind of pain again. So, in addition to making frequent check-ups on the men and women who worked for you to make sure there wasn’t any trace of his influence, you took it upon yourself to personally deal with strengthening his prison every week.

Which was what you had to do right now.

With a heavy sigh, you turned back to look at your mansion and whistled.

At once, a crash, bang, thud, and whimper broke the silence and you could see a large black mass barreling at you from inside the house. The hulking figure shot through a wide doggy door just to the side of your front door and charged at you. 

Your entire face lit up with a laugh as Cerberus attacked you, jumping up to place his paws on your chest so he could have easy access to lick your face. Thankfully he was in his small form so there was only one head trying to lovingly maul you. If he had been full-sized, you’d have an issue. 

At his full height, Cerberus was as tall as your mountain in the Underworld, with three large heads that could see almost everything. When he wasn’t around you in his small size, he’d stand at the gates of the Underworld, guarding the borders and making sure that the rogue spirits didn’t escape. He seemed ferocious and scary because he closely resembled a large black wolf with deep red eyes, but he was really a gentle giant and your metaphorical baby.

You lifted your head up to avoid his eager tongue, instead allowing him to attack your neck as your laughter rang out in the still air. “Cerberus! Down, boy! Down! Yes, it’s good to see you too.” Once you’d gotten him calmed down, you crouched so you were at his eye level and scratched him behind the ears. “Who’s a good boy?”

He barked as if to say, “Me! Me! I am!”

You simply grinned at him and leaned forward to press your forehead to his, a common gesture of affection for you with him. “I’ve gotta go make sure Father hasn’t done anything stupid in a week, you wanna come with me?”

As if it was even a question. Cerberus always accompanied you on your trips, acting as a good guard dog to protect you from some of the spirits that dwelled on the pit’s edges—not that you really needed it, you just loved his company.

“Let’s go.” You straightened up and started to walk down the mountain path.

Cerberus kept perfect pace with you. He knew the way almost as well as you did.

Down the mountain and through the Asphodel Meadows. Cross the Meadows to the Phlegethon and follow the river to the mouth of the cave. Then it was a straight shot into the pit where you could cast your spells. Simple, easy, quick.

You knew the way by heart, not even bothering to look up as you went. Asphodel flowers crunched under your flats as you crossed the Meadows and spirits parted for you to get through; not that they needed to, they were just being polite.

You and Cerberus strolled through the Meadows, coming up to the Phlegethon and following it towards Tartarus.

You had to force your feet to walk as you got closer, a sense of unparalleled dread washing over you. Shivers crept down your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Tartarus was always a daunting place, but today it almost seemed… more so. And as soon as you took one step into the entrance, you knew that something was seriously wrong.

You stopped short, your feet planted into the ground. Your stomach dropped and every warning alarm you had was going off in your head. 

Cerberus had frozen, his ears flattened against his head and his lips pulled back in a snarl. His whole body was positioned to pounce at the drop of a hat.

You rolled your shoulders back and narrowed your eyes. The world began to tint red at the edges, the color slowly creeping in to cover your entire vision. With this new sight, you could see deeper into the tunnel where you saw figures writhing closer and closer to the pit. Something was in the cave, something that didn’t belong.

You grit your teeth and nodded your head towards Cerberus. “Go get Aunt Peggy,” you commanded in a low voice.

He didn’t need to be told twice and took off running as soon as the words left your lips.

You didn’t take your eyes off the mouth of the cave as you extended your hand, calling forth into being your weapon: a sleek black bident that was as tall as you were. Forged for you by the cyclopes millennia ago when you first fought your father, your vibranium bident was a formidable weapon. It was a lot like your sister’s trident, but with two prongs instead of three that branched out from the spear at the height of your chin. Your bident was your primary weapon used for fighting. It allowed you to manipulate spirits and channel magic, morph terrain, and wield the energy of the Underworld, among other things. Plus it was good for stabbing. 

You tightened your grip around the bident’s shaft and lifted it off the ground, moving slowly into the cave. Your feet never made a sound as you stepped closer and closer to the writhing mass. As you neared the souls, your fingers began to turn white with how tight you were holding your weapon, raising it to strike at any second. You were prepared to fight off a small militia of evil souls trying to escape, but what you found when you reached them was not a coup preparing to strike. 

No, the souls were, instead, swarming around a figure.

You muscled your way in through the crowd, using your bident to shove the spirits out of the way and dissipate them. You got to the center of their swarm and looked down. But instead of seeing an animal corpse or something of the likes, you saw something far more serious: a man.

The man seemed to be about your physical age, but you could tell almost right away from the aura he radiated that, like you, he was probably much older than he looked. His short dark hair was tousled and matted, no doubt from the spirits grabbing at it, and his clothes—what once seemed to be a pristine white shirt and jeans—were torn with claw marks and black with dirt. His shocking blue eyes stared up at the ceiling of the chasm, full of despair and hopelessness. He’d obviously started to lose hope that he’d ever escape the clutches of evil that held him tight.

You didn’t have much time to register who he was or what he was doing in Tartarus. You were just in shock that this man, this very _alive_ man, had made it into your domain without you knowing. Your grip slackened and you stared down at him, surprise rising up in you with rage boiling up behind it as the only words you could manage to speak were, “Oh fuck.”


	3. He Becomes a Trespasser

The sun was golden against his skin, shining on the tan color he had come to acquire after so many hours out in the light. It beat down on the flesh, warming it and relaxing him. His arms were folded behind his head as he reclined on the grass. It was soft and cool on his skin; Crete always did have the best grass for lying on. His eyes were closed against the bright light, the rays illuminating his eyelids and highlighting the veins that ran through them. His chest rose and fell with even breaths. If one didn’t know any better, they’d say he was asleep.

But he wasn’t. The young god was just lounging about, listening in on the conversation that was being held not five feet away from him.

The two voices were of young men, one angry, agitated, and fidgeting, and the other slightly exasperated and amused. 

Steve, a naiad, was talking with quick, jerky gestures. He was riled up, clearly upset, but not quite enraged. His fists were balled up tightly, almost as if he wanted to punch something. “…the bastard said I couldn’t do it,” he ranted and raved. “He thinks that because I’m a water spirit, I can’t get jewels like that.”

Sam, a dryad, was watching his friend skeptically. He tended to be the more level-headed of the three, always the mediator to calm Steve’s need to prove himself and Bucky’s somewhat erratic tendencies. He was the one to stop the two before they got themselves killed. “Steve,” he started in an attempt to reason, “it’s not worth your time. So what if you can’t get a ruby to prove him wrong? You’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Like what?” Steve asked with scalding agitation in his voice. “Like guarding Bucky?”

The young god’s eyes opened at the sound of his nickname and he sat up to look over at the two.

“No offense Buck, but really, you can protect yourself most of the time.” Steve turned back to Sam, his gaze hardening once more. “I want to do more than just be a bodyguard.”

“Like what? Like getting a ruby to prove some stupid nereid wrong?”

“Exactly!”

Bucky’s eyes danced with amusement, catching the sunlight up above and shining. He was always finding humor in his friend’s need to prove himself. Steve has always wanted to be the bigger man, be the one who’s worthy, be the one who can be more than he is. Ever since they were little, when Steve was small and scrawny, he’d been taking on dangerous and daring exploits, fights, and anything else he could get his hands on to prove himself. And even now that Steve was an adult with body mass, muscle, and strength to rival the gods, nothing had changed.

Steve frowned as he began to plot. “Now where can I find a ruby?”

“At a mortal jewelry store, probably,” Sam quipped. “But you know we’re not allowed to go there. Winnifred would have our heads. Besides, we don’t have any money to buy them.”

Steve’s lips turned down in a pout. “Dammit.” He scrunched up his face as he thought. “There’s gotta be some other place we can find them.”

“I’ve heard they’re usually in caves,” Bucky chimed in.

“Caves…” Steve repeated when suddenly his eyes lit up. “I’ve got it!” His whole body turned to Bucky, his eyes wide, his lips parted, his body straight and ready for action. “There’s a ton of caves down under. And the queen is literally the goddess of wealth. If anyone anywhere were to have a ruby, it’d be down there. Now, Bucky…” His voice quieted and his eyebrows knitted together, silently begging Bucky to do something.

Bucky simply chuckled, knowing full well what his best friend was asking of him. “Oh no you don’t. Don’t be giving me those puppy dog eyes. You know my mom would kill me if I went down there.”

“But Hades is dangerous and you’re a _god_, man,” Steve moaned. “You _can’t_ die down there, I can. Your mother will never need to know about this. C’mon, do a brother a solid?” He tilted his head to the side. “I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t do it, Buck,” Sam piped up. “Your mom will find out some way or another and we’ll all be screwed. Steve doesn’t need to get a ruby to prove himself. He’s just asking for trouble.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be hard to sneak in and grab one small ruby,” Steve whined. 

“Or it could be extremely difficult and get Bucky in trouble.”

“He’s in, he grabs a ruby, he’s out. Easy!”

“No! Not easy. He’s gonna—”

“I’ll do it.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll what?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll do it. I’ll run down and grab Steve a ruby.”

Both Sam and Steve were shocked. Neither of them thought the young god would actually agree to this crazy plan. But Steve just beamed at him. “You are the freaking best.”

“I know.” Bucky barked a laugh and rose to his feet, the grass wedging in between his bare toes. “But how the Hades am I going to get down there? I don’t think the Underworld is on a map and has a giant sign saying ‘Congratulations, you’ve reached the Underworld.’”

“Well duh.” Steve rolled his eyes and looked around at their surroundings.

They were in a clearing on the island of Crete. It was a quaint little place separated from the mortals and their cities. Sitting at the base of Mount Ida, the clearing was directly below the Dikteon Cave where the Olympian queen had been hidden as a baby. The whole area was coated in her magic, especially that cave, and her magic did some weird things to the rift between worlds.

Steve pointed up at the cave’s mouth. “See that up there?”

Bucky had to squint, but he could see it. “Yeah.”

“When Hades was finishing up the Underworld and securing it, she wasn’t able to close the rift between the Mortal World and the Underworld in that cave. The familiar energy from her sister was too strong and it’s been open ever since. That’s your in and out. It should deposit you right next to a cave if you’re lucky.”

“Please, I was born lucky!” Bucky brushed off his jeans and started walking towards the mountain. “I’ll be back!” he called to his friends before pushing on to find a path up to the cave.

The mortals had tried to pave paths to the cave, but none of them got very far. The residue from Queen Carol’s aura kept them far away from the cave. No mortal could get within a hundred yards of the mouth of the cave. Luckily for Bucky, he was a god.

He marched right up the side of the mountain to the mouth of the cave and stepped inside. He could feel the temperature drop about ten degrees as soon as got an inch inside and the hairs on his arms bristled. A shiver ran down his spine to the tips of his toes, setting an uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have been there. He was a god of spring and new life; he had no business being among the dead.

If his mother saw him now, she’d be furious. Winnifred, the goddess of the harvest and agriculture, may have seemed kind and gentle, but she was strict and her wrath was untamable and wild. If she were to be disobeyed, she would guarantee that those that opposed her direct orders would pay for it. 

Bucky loved his mother to death, but even he had to admit that she could be way too strict sometimes. She insisted that Bucky always dress properly and in a modest outfit, never permitting him nor his friends to dress in anything less than a pair of nice jeans and a pristine shirt. She required them to have limited access to the Mortal World, stating that they should only go if it was absolutely necessary. She didn’t like them frolicking among the mortals because they were Olympians, and above the humans. 

She didn’t have many rules, but she did have one that was absolute: never have any contact with the Underworld or the dead. They were too dangerous for a young god like him.

Bucky couldn’t believe that he was breaking his mother’s most important rule, but at the same time, he was exhilarated. He’d never dared to do something so bold and it was showing. His palms were sweating despite the freezing chill in the air and his heart was racing fast in his chest. He was nervous. He shouldn’t have been there, but it was too late to go back now.

He pushed on, going deeper and deeper into the cave. The air changed around him, growing cold and unforgiving. It was dark and empty and lifeless. He was not in the Mortal World anymore. Bucky took a breath and took a final step, coming out of the cave and entering a chasm.

His breath got stuck in his throat.

He’d heard stories of the Underworld before, he’d heard descriptions of it, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what it actually was. 

It was magnificent, regal, and impressive. With towering mountains in the distance on which a large mansion stood on top of, expansive fields of flowers, and hundreds of thousands of people milling about, Bucky was in awe. He couldn’t believe how organized and calm the realm was; he’d always thought that the Underworld would be savage and ugly, but here it was calm and silent.

He could’ve stood there for hours staring at everything around him and taking it all in, but he was on a mission. He had to find the ruby. 

He put his head on a swivel, looking from side to side as he searched for a cave. Rubies formed in caves; they had to be there. It wasn’t long before his eyes landed on a single cave carved into the side of a wall, a single river flowing into the mouth of it. Granted, that river was made of fire, but Bucky didn’t think anything of it. He assumed that most rivers in the Underworld had some quirk about them and that this one was that it was on fire.

He slid along the side of the Underworld, getting closer and closer to the cave. He wanted to be in and out before he could be caught. He slipped into the mouth of the cave he saw and turned to face it.

The place was colder than the main part of the Underworld. His hairs were standing on end and he had a dreadful weight sitting in the pit of his stomach. Something was not right about this place. It felt bad; it felt evil.

The young god clenched up on himself, his shoulders rolling in as he attempted to shake the feelings but they refused to disappear. Yet, he pushed on.

It was dark in there, he had to give his eyes some time to adjust to the absence of light. When he could finally see again, he scanned the walls of the cave, his eyes peeled for anything shiny and red. It couldn’t be too hard to find a red jewel, right? 

Wrong. 

Upon further inspection, he noticed that there didn’t seem to be a single sparkly object in this godforsaken cave. Every rock was bleak and dull, only clothed in greys and blacks. There was absolutely no color in the cave. Bucky was starting to wonder if he’d ever find a ruby here. Maybe they just weren’t in this cave. Maybe he was in the wrong place. But he didn’t have much time to ponder that. The sinking feeling in his gut was growing heavier and heavier with every step he took in. He shouldn’t have been there. There was something massively wrong with that place. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

But it put its finger on him.

Bucky jumped when he felt something thin, hard, and bumpy touch his skin and latch onto his ankle. A scream tore out of his throat as he snapped his head down and kicked wildly.

A hand, skeletal and white, had grabbed him and was holding on for dear life. It didn’t want to let him go and it pulled him closer to the body that was attached to it.

Bucky had been too preoccupied with searching the walls to notice the mass of bodies that were starting to pile up around him. There were dozens, maybe more, of skeletons and spirits crawling their way to him. They almost seemed drawn to the life that oozed from him. And, surely, as soon as they touched him, he could feel them trying to steal the life from him. He felt listless and drained when they touched him, and he could tell that they were nothing but evil.

How had he gotten so far in without noticing? Was he that much of a fool?

Apparently so.

The spirits around him collected around his feet and reached up, clawing onto his pants and dragging him down.

He struggled in their grasps, doing his best to fight them off, but every time he shook one off, two more would take its place. They were slowly overpowering him, pulling him closer to the ground where more of them could absorb the life from him. He could feel the toll they were taking on him, and he hated himself for feeling so weak. He’d never been so powerless before, and it scared him. For the first time in his relatively young life, he was truly afraid. 

With his mother around, he’d never had anything to fear. But his mother wasn’t here now and he was alone. And this was the end.

The spirits dragged him down to the cave’s floor and swarmed him, clamoring on top of him to maximize their hold.

“I don’t want to die” was the only thought running through his head, but Bucky simply closed his eyes, too afraid to do anything else, so he could wait it out. It’d be over sooner or later, and he was too tired to do anything to stop them. His energy had been drained. Maybe a nap would be nice and when he’d wake up, this would be all over. Yes… A nap sounded delight—

“Hey!” an angry and powerful voice boomed, the sound filling the cave and drowning out everything else.

The hands-on his body stopped dead in their tracks. It shouldn’t have been possible, but now Bucky felt their fear instead of his own.

“Get your hands off of him!” the woman yelled again, her voice filled with more power than Bucky could’ve ever imagined hearing. 

The spirits obeyed, at once letting go and scurrying away from something—or _someone_—behind him.

Footsteps slammed against the rock beneath them, growing louder and louder as the mystery woman marched to Bucky. A hand latched onto the collar of Bucky’s shirt and yanked him back away from the spirits. A two-pronged bident took his place, swinging at the spirits menacingly and driving them away. It glowed the faintest blue in the darkness, illuminating the faces of the damned.

The ghosts and skeletons shied away, curling up on themselves and scrambling to get away as they hissed. They were obviously afraid of the person it belonged to.

Said person tightened their grip on Bucky and began to drag him out of the cave, the bident staying in front of him as they aimed to protect him. 

Bucky tried to turn his head back to see his savior, but he couldn’t turn his head very far without being stopped by the hand on the back of his neck. 

She pulled him out of the cave, past the river of fire, and threw him on the dead grass outside. 

He landed flat on his ass with a satisfying “oof”. His hands shot back to catch him before he could fall on his back and he looked down at his body.

His once white shirt was now a dark shade of grey and torn and his jeans were torn nearly to shreds. There were scratches, scrapes, and bruises covering his legs. Little rivers of ichor ran down from the cuts, coating his skin with gold. He looked like a war-torn battlefield. His mother was going to kill him. If those spirits hadn’t finished the job, she sure would. He was dead meat. Steve and Sam better start planning his funer—

“Just what in the Hades were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” the same voice from the cave demanded, only this time, she seemed more pissed than powerful. Her voice had lost the booming effect it had previously, but it was still sharp enough to send shivers down his spine.

Slowly Bucky lifted his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of black flats below black pleated pants. Looking further up he saw a black blazer covering a dark grey shirt, and further up still, he saw the face of a woman. She was quite beautiful in the way that something cold and hard like a statue was beautiful. He would’ve admired her features but he was too afraid of, and yet so enchanted by, her eyes. Her eyes, unlike most, weren’t a brown, blue, or green; no, they were red—a bright and fiery shade of scarlet that seemed to glow in the darkness of the Underworld. They held him trapped, hypnotized by the brilliant color.

He felt so small beneath her gaze, even though he was comparatively larger than she was. 

She radiated power as she glowered down at him, the bident by her side making her even more intimidating. Her lips curled back in a snarl. “I asked you a question; answer me!”

Bucky flinched and started to stammer out, “I-I…”

She seemed exasperated by his loss of words and bent down to him.

He shied away, afraid that she was going to attack him, but she simply grabbed onto his wrist and pulled. Her skin was shockingly cold against his flesh and he inhaled sharply.

She dragged him to his feet and began to pull him after her as she walked away from the cave. She was beyond angry and that made her scary. The only saving grace was that her bident had seemingly melted into thin air, probably stored in some magical pocket somewhere. She was trembling with rage as she began to rant and rave, her grip never once loosening. “Of all the idiocy I have seen in my life, I have never seen someone as stupid as you. What kind of imbecile walks into the pit willingly? Do you have a death wish? Gods, it is not my fucking job to save daredevils from the edge of the pit.” 

Bucky only stared at her, filled with confusion. His mind was racing a million miles an hour and he asked, “The pit?”

“_Tartarus_, you insolent fool!” she snapped, quickening her pace as she pulled him towards the place he’d come in. How she knew about the exit, Bucky didn’t know, but she continued speaking, “The prison of the worst souls known to man, the titans, and any monster you could dream of. How could you possibly—” She froze in her steps as if it suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t know who Bucky was. Rigidly, she looked over her shoulder, her red eyes glaring at him. “Who are you?” 

“M-Me?”

“Yes, you!”

Bucky blanked. Who was he again? He could barely remember under her intense gaze. “I’m, uh… I’m Bu— James. I’m James, god of spring, son of—”

“Demeter,” she spat out, her voice dripping heavily with venom and contempt. “Great. Just fucking great. You’re a _new_ god. And not just a new god, the fucking son of _Demeter_.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in between her thumb and forefinger and heaved a great sigh.

He stared at her, even more confused than before. “H-Her name is Winnifred,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking.

She rolled her eyes. “Same fucking difference. It’s the same woman.”

“Well, yes, I suppose. But wait! You know my mother?”

“Of course I know your goddamn mother. She hates my guts and I’m not too fond of her either.” The woman squeezed her eyes shut and let her head fall back with an even louder groan. “Gods, she’s probably going to think I kidnapped you or something! Do you realize what you being down here means?" 

“I—”

“Of course you don’t! How could you? You’re just some young, stupid, idiotic god who thinks he can go anywhere he pleases. Well, news flash, you’re not allowed to roam my domain without my permission. This is not a place for the living, and you’re lucky you escaped with only minor wounds.”

“Your domain?” Bucky furrowed his brows, his steps faltering. “Wait… Then, you’re—”

“Hades,” she confirmed. “But that’s just what the mortals call me. You need not know my name, you only need know that you have to leave. You were never supposed to be here in the first place and you will never get in again.” She dragged him towards the cave he’d entered the Underworld through and yanked him in.

Crossing the threshold, he could feel the immediate change in the air. He could feel life surging back to him as they entered the Mortal World. He could also feel Hades stumble as if the sudden rush of life was startling to her.

She pulled him through the Dikteon Cave and out into the sun at the mouth of the cave. “Where did you come from?” she demanded, her voice low and cold as her hands.

Bucky pointed down towards the clearing where he could just barely make out the figures of Sam and Steve.

She let go of his wrist and grabbed his upper arm instead. “Hold on.”

He didn’t get a chance to ask her what she meant, because she leaped up into the air and off the side of the mountain, pulling him with her. The wind whistled past his ears as they fell, and he had to trap the scream that was rising in his throat.

They landed on the edge of the clearing, the ground trembling beneath them. She released Bucky, throwing him forward a bit before straightening up and glaring at Steve and Sam who had started running over.

With her shoulders rolled back and her body completely in the light, Bucky could now observe her fully. The red had faded from her eyes, revealing a wonderful shade of (e/c) that had red-rimmed around the iris. Her skin was devoid of life and she had deep, dark circles covering the skin beneath her eyes. Bucky hated to admit it, but she almost looked _dead_. She was unsettling but in a gorgeous, powerful kind of way.

Steve ran over to Bucky’s side, his face panicked. “Buck,” he breathed out, “are you alright? What happened?”

“He went where he had no business going,” Hades answered, her voice agitated and disgruntled. “You two are his watchers, no?”

“U-Um, yes, Ma’am?” Steve responded, thoroughly anxious.

“Then fucking _watch him_,” she snapped, her voice suddenly growing in volume. “The Underworld is no place for fledgling gods who have no experience in the real world.”

Sam turned to Bucky, his eyes wide with alarm. He probably wanted to say something in their defense, but the only thing he asked was, “Did you get the ruby?”

Bucky could’ve smacked him.

Hades glowered at Sam. “What ruby? Explain yourselves.”

Bucky gulped. “It’s the reason I went down. My friend wanted a ruby and I thought I could find one in the Underworld and I…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, realizing how stupid it was under her incredulous look.

“You mean to tell me you went to fucking Tartarus for a _ruby_? A single ruby that’s worth hardly anything to a god?”

“…Yes.”

She barked a bitter laugh, doubling over and placing her hands on her knees to steady herself. “I can’t believe this.” She held out her fingers, maintaining a small gap in between her thumb and forefinger, and a single, raw ruby, red as blood and the size of a large pebble, formed out of thin air. “Here. Take your damn ruby.” She chucked it at the ground at Bucky’s feet before narrowing her eyes at him. “You got what you came for, and now you have no reason to return. If I ever, and I mean _ever_, catch you in my realm again, I will teach you why the mortals call it Hell.” She spared the men one last snarl before taking a step away from them, digging something out of her pocket, and dropping the minuscule item on the ground.

At once, the ground trembled and shook and a hole opened up at her feet. The ground swallowed her, pulling her into the depths before closing up again like nothing ever happened. In her place stood a single flower with an elongated stem and a spike of white blossoms: an Asphodel.

Bucky’s gaze switched between the flower and the ruby until it finally settled on the jewel. Slowly he reached for the ruby and picked it up to examine it. It was heavy in his hand, beautiful and clear. It filtered the light that passed through it and cast odd shapes that mimicked its raw cut in red on his palm. But it wasn’t the ruby itself that mesmerized him, it was the color; the same color of her eyes. Bucky was certain that that shade of red would be burned into his memory for all eternity, and as he stood there with Sam and Steve fawning over him making sure he was okay and talking about getting him cleaned off and changed into new clothes because he “reeked of death”, he couldn’t help but think of her: Hades, the woman whose name he did not fully know, but whose face had suddenly washed over his mind and infiltrated every nook and cranny of his thoughts. His grip tightened over the ruby and he smiled to himself softly.


	4. Her Head Aches

Landing on your front stoop once more, you felt thoroughly exhausted and exasperated. You’d used all the energy you had stored for dealing with the living and you weren’t going to need to interact with anyone outside of the Underworld for a year or two at that point. Brunch had been nice, but then dealing with that _James_? Oh boy, were you spent!

You still couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to come down to the Underworld. You’d heard of mortals and younger gods being naive, but that was a whole new level of idiocy. And for what? A simple ruby? 

You heaved a labored sigh and turned to look over your kingdom. You hadn’t gotten the chance to reapply any spells to your father’s cage in your mad dash to save the young prince of spring, and now it was just another thing to do on your list. Gods, that incident had really screwed up your schedule. 

From your spot on the mountain, you could see two figures making a beeline through the Asphodel Meadows from Tartarus: a large dog and a woman. The woman was running frantically, keeping pace with the dog.

Your stomach plummeted. Crap. You’d forgotten you’d sent Cerberus to get Peggy. They’d probably gone back to the cave and didn’t find you there. You could only imagine how worried they were when you were missing.

Peggy and Cerberus quickly scaled the steep steps that led up to your mansion, the elevation and distance being nothing to them. 

Peggy barely stopped in front of you and she grabbed onto your wrists, lifting them up to inspect your body. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice coated in her British accent (she’d spent quite a bit of time in London from the 1920s to the 1940s and the accent had stuck and never left). Her brown eyes scanned every detail of your face, checking for any traces of golden ichor. 

You let her do her work, simply nodding your head and saying, “I’m fine, Peggy.”

“When Cerberus came barging into my home without you… I thought _he’d_ gotten you.”

You shook your head. “My father would have a hell of a time corrupting me, Peg. No, what had happened was some idiotic god wandered down here and had gotten stuck in Tartarus. The spirits had him and I’d thought something bigger was going on. That’s why I sent Cerberus for you. But nothing is the matter. I dealt with it.”

“Some god?” Her brows furrowed. “But how would he have—” She narrowed her eyes. “The Dikteon Cave.”

“Bingo.”

“But I’d thought we’d closed the rift the best we could and layered on protection warrants.”

“We did,” you confirmed. “But gods, if they’re determined enough, can still slip in.”

“What did he want?”

“A ruby. Probably to amaze and impress some girl.” You rolled your eyes and waved your hand dismissively. “But I took care of him. Sent him home to his chaperones and gave him the chastising of his life. He won’t be back any time soon.”

Peggy nodded, her gaze shifting from you to the cave on the other side of your kingdom. “Did you get a chance to…?”

“No. I need to go do that now.”

“Do you want me to come too?”

“No. You can stay here. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be coming back shortly after for a drink.”

She couldn’t stop the snicker that fell from her lips. “Something strong?”

“Nah. Probably just some wine mixed with nectar. Can you crack out the 1918 Cabernet Sauvignon for me? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Of course. Just promise me you won’t drink the whole bottle this time?”

“Ah, I can’t do that, Peg.” You gave her a sly smile. “After dealing with my sisters, an imbecile, and my father, I might just need to get wasted. But that’s why I have you; to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”

“Mhmm. Sure. Come on, Cerberus,” she said, beckoning your dog to follow her into your house.

He followed after her, his tail wagging with excitement at the idea of hanging out with Aunt Peggy.

As the door closed behind them, you descended the staircase to the ground at the foot of the mountain and made your way over to the cave. Your bident materialized in your hand as you went, driving the spirits away from you. 

Tartarus was as cold as ever, making you shiver and goosebumps rise up on your skin. It was empty and evil and it made your heart spasm, but you had to go on. You made your way through the cave, following the tunnel until it opened up. The pit sat in the middle of the chasm; wide, expansive, deep, and extensive. The Phlegethon ran down into it, illuminating the walls of the pit until it was swallowed up by nothingness. You never liked to get too close to the edge, so you stood a good five feet away. Staring down into the pitch-black beneath you, you thought you could almost make out the bottom, but you knew that was impossible. It was too deep to see the bottom from up there. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You had a task to do, and nothing was going to distract you from completing it.

You began to mumble spells in a tongue so dead that you barely remembered the meaning of the words you spoke. It was the language of the first titans, taught to you by your mother. The words coming out of your mouth conveyed your wishes to bind, to entrap, to keep, and to lock away. They came from the ancient magic you had used when you sealed your father away the first time. 

Your voice trickled down into the pit, the power it held no doubt soaring to the cage your father lay trapped in and strengthening, replacing, and adding to the protection around it. It wouldn’t take more than five seconds for your spells to reach their destination. You could always tell when they started to work because someone would answer.

Sure enough, a cold chuckle echoed out of the pit and a snide voice said, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite daughter. You’re a bit late today, aren’t you? Did something happen? Are you finally going soft on me?” His tone was mocking and not concerned in the least bit. 

You stiffened but continued to murmur your spells. You hated it when he tried to talk to you. It only distracted you, but you knew that was his goal. He always tried to disrupt your enchantments in hopes that he could weaken his cage.

Deep, booming laughter rang out of the pit, shaking the cave ever so slightly. “Why do you never talk to me, my daughter? It’s so lonely down here. If you insist on seeing me so often, you might as well make conversation.”

_Ignore him._

You closed your eyes, blocking out everything other than the rituals you performed, muttering those words that had become second nature to you, trying to hurry up and finish. The sooner you could get out of there, the better.

“How was your day? I heard a commotion coming from the cave earlier. Were the spirits finally rebelling against you? Have you lost your touch?”

You exhaled sharply. 

“How is your mother doing? She never visits me. My darling, traitorous wife, who decided she loved her children more than me. Speaking of them, how are my other daughters? Are they reveling in the kingdom they stole from my brothers and me?” You could feel the malice in his words. There was always malice and hatred when he talked about you, your mother, and your sisters. He despised you with every ounce of his being, though he would always claim differently.

“You know, my love, if you were to release me, I could do so much for you. I never hated you. I was only afraid of you. You were destined to overthrow me and I couldn’t let that happen. That’s why I had to eat you. But I’m so sorry. If you were to set me free, I could be the father you always wanted. I know you, (y/n). I heard all your cries and pleading. I know you only wanted a father; know you wanted me to be a father for you. I know you wanted us to be a family. We can be that now. All you have to do is stop with your spells and set me free. You can do it. I know you can. I can give you all the love you craved. Just let me go.”

You refused, your voice growing in volume and intensity.

His anger rose from the pit, trying to grasp onto you. “Let me go! Release me!” He was done with bargaining for the day, turning to demanding and threatening. “I will kill you, (y/n). You’ll see. One day I will get out of here and when I do, you will be the first to feel my wrath. I will lock you in my cage, torment you with your failure, and keep you imprisoned for all eternity. You will never have known pain like the pain I will give to you.”

Blah blah blah.

You’d heard it all before, and, frankly, it was getting old.

You finished your spell, casting the last enchantment and finishing with your weekly ritual. 

You could hear Kronos groan as his restraints tightened. You took a deep breath and leaned forward, looking over the edge and staring into the pit, a satisfied smile on your face. “Not today, old man,” you whispered before turning your back to him and walking out of the cave towards your mansion. 

Peggy was sitting on a long couch in the lounge that sat just right of the entryway. Black furniture adorned the room with a single crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting light over the space. A long black couch faced a wall of windows that overlooked Elysium. A low black coffee table which sat in the middle of the room acted as the focal point for a comfy armchair you had picked up decades ago and still loved, the long black couch, and a fireplace that burned with red flames on the other wall in the room. A wine glass filled with red wine that was tinted with the unmistakable gold of nectar sat on the coffee table and a large television was mounted to the wall above the fireplace. It was on low, a mortal sitcom of sorts playing. You couldn’t be bothered to learn its name, and it seemed that Peggy only had it on for background noise. Her attention was otherwise diverted to the dog whose head was on her lap. 

She rubbed at his ears absently, only looking up when you closed the front door behind you. Her brows were creased and her lips taut with worry. “Are you alright?” she asked again, like she did every time you came home from the pit.

“Will be after a drink.” You took a seat in your armchair and reached forward for the glass of wine on the coffee table. The glass was chilled against your fingertips—you always did like your drinks “as cold as your heart”—and you lifted it up to your lips. The sweet taste of nectar mixed with rich wine filled your mouth and you swallowed it eagerly. 

Peggy eyed you with a sharp laugh. “If you’re not careful, the other gods might think you’re an alcoholic.”

“Meh, they’ve had two thousand years to call me one. If they haven’t done it by now, they won’t ever do it.” You sighed and shifted in your chair, shrugging your shoulders and straightening up. “Now, do you want to hear about my day or not?”

She snickered, only resting her elbow on the arm of the couch and her chin in the palm of her hand. “Sure. You tell me all about your day. How’re your sisters?”

“Same as always,” you said with a fond smile. “Carol is still pretending to be the eldest and is still a great queen, Nat is still a smart ass but great. They’re still my family.”

“Mhmm. And, now will you tell me a bit about this god that got into Tartarus. You said he used the Dikteon Cave?”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “James, god of spring. Demeter’s kid.”

“Demeter? (y/n), she has a real name you know. It’s Win—”

“Winnifred,” you finished. “Yeah, I know. He corrected me too.” You shrugged. “But, frankly, I don’t give a damn. If it pisses her off to call her Demeter, then great. It’s not like she’s going to hate me less for calling her by her real name.”

You and Winnifred went way back. She was almost as old as you were but fell short by just a century or two. She was the goddess of agriculture and the harvest and pretty much the protector of all life. She was kind to most of the Olympians; strict and stern if anything, but kind nonetheless. She was usually polite so long as you were kind back, but she was also really protective of her charges and plants. Naturally, she hated you. Why wouldn’t she? You were the goddess of the Underworld; you oversaw anything and everything death related. She blamed you exclusively for the death of her plants and all the life on earth (despite your attempts to explain to her that you were not the goddess of death and instead just ran the Underworld and those who were actually dead). She seemed to believe that you were pure evil and had a personal vendetta against her. She hated you.

You didn’t care much for her either. Ever since she decided it was your fault that plants died and harvests were bad, she’d been nothing but a bitch to you. You were not one to take anybody’s shit without a fight and so you weren’t the nicest back to her. But if she was hell-bent on being on your bad side and treating you poorly, then you weren’t going to bend over backward to be nice to her. If she was going to be mean, you were going to be mean back. After all, you shouldn’t have to deal with that. You were a queen, one of the original three gods, and she was just some second-generation goddess with a fragile ego that was easily threatened. 

“Anyways,” Peggy said, diverting the conversation away from Demeter and turning it back to her son, “you found him at Tartarus and kicked him out?”

You nodded. “I also might’ve threatened him, but that’s beside the point.”

“You _what_?”

You laughed as you looked around the room for the bottle of wine. Your glass had run empty and you wanted some more. You spotted it back on the rack and held out your hand in its direction. Moving on its own accord, it plucked itself from the rack and floated into your waiting hand. You uncorked it and began to pour yourself another glass. “Relax. You know I’d never follow through with it. Torture is so not my style. I just scared the kid. Whatever the case, I think I did the trick. Hopefully, he’ll never come back. But now we’ve got a perimeter issue on our hands.” You brought your glass to your lips and tilted your head back, taking another sip. “He got in way too easily. Some of our charms must be wearing off. We’re going to have to redo those. If something as menial as a young god can get in, then who knows what else can.”

“You’re not thinking…?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “The remaining titans—Helios, Atlas, Epimetheus, among others—they’re either loyal to us or trapped in their own special prisons. But who knows?” Your brows knit together. “One day they might decide that they wanna break their fathers out of jail and mine right along with them. One day they might decide that they’re above the gods, rebel, break out of prison, set the old titans free.” Your lips formed a thin line and your hand tightened into a fist. “They’re stronger than gods, they could break in through the cave easier.”

“So what do you plan on doing?”

“I dunno. More charms. New charms?” You snickered to yourself and looked out towards Elysium. “Maybe pull some of the old warriors from paradise to be on guard duty if they want it. Just imagine it: arming a bunch of dead guys with weapons from their time and putting them in armor. Ha! The old guys would get a hoot out of that.”

Peggy hummed with a smile. “Yes, I could imagine old Magnus from the Roman era and Eddie from 1942 pairing up together for guard duty. Frankly, I think the men would enjoy a little spice in life. I’d ask them if they’d be willing. It might throw any intruders off their rhythm if they were met with a small militia of ghosts.”

You stared at her, your eyebrows raised and an amused smile playing on your lips. “Did you just reference John Mulaney?” 

“Well, I suppose I did.” She smirked at you. “You’re not the only one who can make pop culture references.”

You chuckled. “I guess you’re right.”

She opened her mouth to make another comment, but she was cut off by a thud overhead. The impact of something hitting the roof rattled the chandelier, causing the crystals to cling together and ring out over the silence.

A slow smile crept over your lips and you leaned back in your chair. “It seems we have a visitor, Peg.”

She nodded, a smile to match yours taking over her own face. “He’s never here at this time. He must want something.”

You snorted. “Yeah, no joke.”

Knuckles rapped against the front door, the visitor’s way of asking for entry.

“It’s open!” you called, turning your torso to face the door.

It swung open to reveal a taller man, with brown hair, a slight stubble, and blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. He was dressed in dark pants and a tight black, short sleeve shirt with arm-guards strapped to his forearms. A quiver of arrows and a bow were slung haphazardly across his back. He wore a lopsided grin and tilted his head to the side. “Morning, ladies,” he said, his demeanor nothing but cheery. “D’you miss me?”

“Clint!” Peggy cheered, her smile only widening at the sight of him. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“Heya, Pegs. If I’d known you were going to be here, I would’ve brought you flowers or something.” He sauntered into the lounge and stole a seat next to her.

Cerberus barked at him, his tail wagging with excitement. He turned his head from Peggy and trotted over to Clint.

Clint’s eyes brightened at the sight of your dog. “Hey, boy! Gods, you’ve gotten so big, haven’t you?” He ran his hands through Cerberus’ fur, knotting his fingers in it and shaking his head. “I want a dog like you so badly, but Laura says no.”

You hummed. “M’sorry, Clint, but Cerberus is the only one of his kind. I don’t know of any other dogs that can grow to the size of a mountain with three heads. He’s unique, and he’s mine.” You turned your gaze down to him. “Aren’t you, boy? Aren’t you mine?”

He pulled away from Clint before dashing over to your side and plopping his head down in your lap.

Content to pet your dog and stroke his fur, you once more looked up at Clint. “Well, I like a surprise visit from our favorite messenger god as much as anybody, but I do have to ask what catastrophic event brings you to my door at this time? You never come unless you’re having trouble with a spirit or you want to use the damned for target practice. Considering the fact that it’s Pierce’s day to reap and you just got some target practice in, I’m assuming it’s neither of those; but then I have no reason for your being here.”

“You’ve got me. I’m not here for either of those reasons, but just to satisfy my curiosity.”

“About what?”

“Oh, about whether or not you kidnapped a certain god of spring.”

You sneered. “Is that what the rumors are?”

He nodded reluctantly. “Look, (y/n), I know you’re a good person and you’d probably never do something like that, but the sprites are talking and I wanted to get the story from you so I can go and squash those rumors before his mom hears them. You know that she’s not pretty when she’s angry.”

“And you know that she is practically powerless against me and is no threat.” You wrinkled your nose and rolled your eyes in a scoff. “I did not kidnap him, the idiot came down here of his own will. I rescued him from Tartarus and threw his ass out. He has no place down here and I will not tolerate trespassers, no exceptions.”

Peggy snorted.

“What?”

“No exceptions? Really?” She turned towards you and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Need I remind you about that Orpheus fellow?”

“Hey, that was a special case ‘cause I was feeling generous. Never again.” You shook your head. “Clint, you can go back and use your Hermes-voodoo-messenger skills to tell the nymphs and sprites and whoever that has the audacity to accuse me of kidnapping that he came down here himself and I will not be subject to false accusations and lies. Also, tell them not to gossip and spread rumors. It’s not good for the soul. I should know. I just inspected one earlier and—oof—did that soul gossip a lot.”

Clint let out a hearty chuckle. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along.” He leaned back in his seat, lifting his arms over his head in a large stretch. “Gah! How quickly do you want this message spread?”

“ASAP, Clint. I don’t want anyone thinking the borders are going soft or that they can just waltz on in and do whatever they please. That is not how I run my kingdom and that is not how I will ever run my kingdom. Peggy and I are taking certain precautions, and there will never, _ever_, be another invasion again.”


	5. His Mind Runs Wild

For minutes, hours, and days after his little adventures in the Underworld, the red-eyed goddess stayed on Bucky’s mind. She never once abdicated his thoughts, consuming a good majority of his waking hours. Sure he forgot about her for a bit when Steve and Sam were keeping him occupied, but when he was lying down in a bed of grass in the middle of an open field, with her ruby clutched tightly in his hand, he couldn’t help but think of her.

Hades.

He knew she had to have a different name, but neither he nor anyone else he talked to seemed to know what it was. He wasn’t able to ask many people because he didn’t want his mother finding out that he was curious about her. 

His mother wasn’t necessarily “Underworld friendly”. She’d cautioned him about Hades and the dead all his life, telling him how horrible and evil they were. They were the very opposite of what he and his mother stood for and that made them the enemy by default. His mother would go on rants about how horrible Hades and her “rotten minions” were to kill her plants and creations and would tell Bucky that he was never to have any connections with them, “Not that you would, my little flower. I know you’re smarter than to go sticking your nose in Death’s business.”

Some part of Bucky felt really bad for being so intrigued by her. He knew he should stay far, far away, but there was something deep down in his gut telling him not to. She was nothing like his mother had told him.

Winnifred had painted a picture of a devil—an evil woman with a cold heart, black soul, and no regard for life or its beauty—but that’s not what he encountered at all.

Hades had asked him if he had a death wish. She seemed to think he was trying to kill himself. But, if she really did crave death like his mother had described, she wouldn’t have saved his life. She didn’t seem to be heartless when she rescued him, using her powers to scare the demons away from him. If she really was as horrible as his mother described, she wouldn’t have cared about him and left him to die. But she didn’t. And that’s what intrigued Bucky so much.

She was different than what he had been taught, and it was the only thing he could think about. She seemed kinder than what he’d believed. Sure she was still cold with a touch of cruel, but she’d saved his life which meant that she had to have an ounce or two of kindness in her. There had to be something she was hiding behind that cold exterior and those fiery red eyes.

In the aftermath of his arrival back to the Mortal World, he’d become more careful of what he did. Steve and Sam had made him bathe and shower more times than he cared to admit because he reeked of death. They demanded to know every detail and Bucky was more than happy to oblige. He told them all about how he got tangled up in Tartarus and how Hades had saved him. They had a hard time believing that she would do something like that, but even they couldn’t deny it because they saw her throw Bucky out. 

Steve had felt so guilty about sending Bucky down there to get a ruby. He had wanted to chuck it in the river and forget that it ever existed, but Bucky wouldn’t let him. “Let me have it; y’know, as a keepsake,” he’d said before taking the gem for himself.

Steve didn’t even try to protest. He let his friend take it and just went along with it. 

But Sam had some questions. After Steve had gone to sleep and they were lying there in the grass staring at the sky, Sam rolled over and eyed Bucky. “You alright?”

Bucky turned onto his side to stare at Sam, a kind smile on his face. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, but I’d think that narrowly escaping the Underworld would’ve rattled you more than it did. Weren’t you scared?”

Truth it, Bucky was terrified there for a bit. But then Hades rescued him and he was less afraid. He knew she wouldn’t hurt him. He shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s behind us now, right?”

“Yeah… Right…” Sam pursed his lips together. “Just don’t let your mind wander off after it, alright. That was a one-time thing and we won’t ever let it happen again.”

“Yeah. Whatever you say.”

But Bucky wasn’t concerned with staying away from the Underworld, he was thinking about how to get back down there. He had to go there again, just one time. He had to see her again. There was something pulling him to the Underworld. Maybe it was the Fates weaving it into his destiny, maybe it was just him, but he wasn’t going to rest until he was able to make it down just one more time.


	6. She Deals With a Pest

It was a nice, calm day in the Underworld. Two weeks had passed since you’d banished James from the realm and things were just finally starting to calm down. You and Peggy had charmed the cave into next week, making it nearly impossible for even you to pass through it. No one was going to break in there any time soon. Paperwork had built up in the meantime, leaving you with a bunch of shit to deal with. For hours you slaved away, reviewing and approving Elysium applications, scanning over the new Tartarus admittees, checking out this invitation or that. You didn’t realize just how busy you could be if you took a couple of days off to deal with something as menial as border control. 

But you’d managed to catch up, getting ahead even, and that left you with a rare afternoon off. You decided to spend it out at your private pool. The water glowed blue, illuminating the skin left bare by your modest one piece. You lounged on a pool chair, your hands folded over your stomach as you laid out with your eyes closed. The only sound for miles was the soft rippling of water coming from a fountain you had installed in the pool three decades ago. It was quiet, calm, cool, and—

_Bzzt, bzzt, bzzt._

The peace was shattered by your phone going off on the side table.

You groaned and screwed your face up. Damn the phone. Damn it for disrupting your quiet time. Damn you for bringing it out in the first place. You blindly groped the side table for the small box, wrapping your fingers around it. For a split second, you considered tossing it into the pool in front of you. You could always just pick up a new one. As much as you loathed going up to Olympus and purchasing a phone and fraternizing with the gods who hated you, in addition to the pain in the ass it was to take it to Tony to be synced with all the godly apps, contacts, and necessities you had on the old one, you hated the sound of your phone ringing and disturbing your day off more. It wasn’t like something as trivial as money was an issue for you and you had plenty of time.

You could do it. You could just throw it into the pool and be done with it.

The phone continued to ring in your hand, urging you to look at the caller ID.

Finally, curiosity won out and you opened your eyes. You were expecting to see your mother, Peggy, or even one of your sisters on the line, but you were confused to see Phil Coulson, the ferryman who brought souls over from the Mortal World, instead. You pressed the answer button and brought the phone up to your ear. “Coulson?”

“(y/n), thank the gods. You need to come to the Acheron right now.” His voice was frantic, panicked, and angry, shaking with a contained temper.

His tone alone was enough to send you flying from your beach chair and around to the front of your house. Shadows crept up your body as you walked, materializing over your bathing suit into the fabric that made up your signature black blazer and pants. Your grip tightened on your phone as you made your descent down the mountain. “I’m on my way. What’s going on?”

There was a grunt on the other end of the call and yelling that you couldn’t make out. “There’s some—_ngh_—crazy—_No! Don’t touch that!_—live bastard—_I will cut off your limbs and feed you to Cerberus, I swear to Zeus!_—trying to steal my boat!”

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing as you brought your gaze up to look at the border of your realm. “There’s a _what_?”

“Some live son-of-a-bitch meandered his way in and is now on the living side trying to jump on my boat and crossover. I don’t know if he has a death wish or what, but I haven’t seen this sort of idiocy since ancient times. Now get over here and _help_ _me_!” The line went dead as Phil hung up.

You broke out into a sprint, running as fast as your legs would take you. Spirits parted for you, sensing the anxiety and confusion that rolled off you in waves. All the while, your mind ran wild with thoughts. Who had broken in? Why had they come? Where did they come from? Who were you going to have to kill? You had an idea of the idiot who came, but you weren’t going to be certain until you laid eyes on the intruder’s face.

Red crept into the corners of your vision and you had no doubt in your mind that your eyes were also turning red. It happened whenever you were stressed or angry among other things, though that seemed to be happening all the time recently.

You made it to the river in record time, sliding to a stop at the river’s edge. On the bank opposite of you, you saw thousands of spirits milling about, rustling with agitation. Phil stood on his boat, using his oar to push back a single body that was trying to muscle his way on. You would recognize that head of crisply cut brown hair anywhere. He’d been seared into your memory ever since he broke in the first time. 

You felt your blood boil with agitation as you took a step forward onto the water. Your foot hit the surface like it was solid and you marched across the river. As you neared the pair, you rolled your shoulders back, puffed out your chest, and put on your “scary queen face,” as Peggy called it. Adding on a loudening effect to your voice, you made your attempt to catch their attention as you boomed, “Now just what in the hell is going on here?”

Your voice rolled over Phil and James in waves, freezing them in their steps.

Phil’s face broke out into a smile when he saw you. “Oh, finally! Will you please deal with him?”

The “him” he referred to lifted his eyes to meet yours, tensing up as they met. He did not seem afraid of you, which was strange. Most would quake in their boots when they saw you, but not him. He seemed unfazed by your presence, smiling at you instead of running away. “Hades,” he greeted.

“James.” You crossed your arms and looked at him down your nose. “Would you care to explain to me why I have found you once again in my kingdom after I _explicitly_ told you to never return?”

“I…” It seemed that he had not thought this far ahead. If you had to guess, he came down seeking your attention, but he had no idea about what to do once he had it. “I… I just wanted to see you again.”

You deadpanned at him. “So you broke in and tried to steal my ferryman’s boat just to see me? You’re not after a jewel or something again?”

“No! I mean, no. I just…” He was flustered, a soft pink rising to his cheeks and his eyes darting around nervously. “I can’t get you out of my mind and I wanted to see you again, get to know you a bit, you know?”

You couldn’t believe your ears, it was so stupid. You laughed. “You really must be a naive fool,” you muttered. “No one ‘gets to know’ me, James. No one likes me, no one cares enough to stick around. Your efforts are futile. Don’t waste your time going for something that’s beyond your reach.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you silenced him with a sneer. “Go home, James. You don’t belong down here. The Underworld has no place for a god of spring who doesn’t know when enough is enough. I will not tell you to leave again.”

“But I—” 

“Do you want to do this the hard way? Cause damnit, James, I will take you by the scruff of your neck and throw you out again, I swear to the gods. I am too busy and too tired to deal with this today, now leave!”

The harshness in your voice seemed to finally rattle him and he lowered his head in submission. This was obviously not how he had planned this going. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now leave.” You turned away from James and strode up to Phil’s side. You didn’t even turn your head to look at him when you said, “Make sure he leaves, and when he’s gone, tighten security. I’ll be sending Cerberus down pronto to help.” You cast a glare over your shoulder at the retreating god before sliding back across the river, on your way to enjoy what was left of your day off.

———

The spirits of Elysium were some of the kindest people you knew. They were always warm and welcoming to you, even though you were the “scary Queen of the Underworld.” They’d adopted you as one of their own, some giving you friendly smiles and asking you about your life and others going as far as to invite you down for dinner once or twice a month and taking care of you like you were their granddaughter (despite the fact that you were several thousand years older than them).

One spirit in particular, an elderly woman named Martha Thomas who had died in 1930’s America, seemed to take a liking to you. She invited you to dinner the most, and although you didn’t really need to eat, you adored her food and were always ready to take a meal from her. She was always kind and caring towards you, insisting that she invited you over so much in order to keep you from “getting too lonely.” You tried to tell her that you were fine on your own, but she wouldn’t have it. “You do so much for us, dear. The least we can do is invite you over for a meal every so often.”

So, when you were working on some paperwork and saw your phone buzzing on your desk with her name on the caller ID, you thought that she was just calling you down to dinner again. A small smile tugged at your lips as you shoved aside the countless number of papers before you and picked up your phone. Pressing your finger to the answer button, you held the phone up to your ear and said, “Hey, Martha!”

“(y/n)?” Her voice was trembling and nervous, causing you to sit up straighter and your heart to race. She continued, “I’m so sorry to bother you, dear, but there’s someone here and I… I just don’t know what to do about it.” 

“Someone there? Martha, take a deep breath, I’m on my way. Who’s there?” You stood up and rounded your desk, shooting out of your office and down the halls of your home. You slipped on a pair of shoes as you left, moving as fast as you could to get out of the house.

“I-I don’t know, but he’s a-alive! He’s alive and he keeps asking for directions to your home. He was just here and I told him nothing, but I thought nothing alive should be able to get down here.” 

Your brows furrowed as you shot out the door and began the descent down the mountain. “Nothing should unless they’re a—” And like that, you knew who the intruder was… again. A guttural growl escaped your throat, causing Martha to squeak on the other line with its intensity. “Motherf— Martha, stay inside. Ignore him. I’ll deal with him personally.” You hung up, slid your phone into your pants pocket, and marched down to the gates of Elysium. Your steps had slowed a bit, as you were no longer in a hurry to get down. You now knew that the intruder was harmless. You scoffed just thinking about him. He’d only made it three weeks before stupidity got the better of him again.

The towering gates stood a small distance from the base of your mountain, and they opened soundlessly when you pressed your palm flat against the seal. You slipped in, shut the gate behind you, and started to amble down the way. 

There was no sun in the Underworld, but that didn’t stop Elysium from being the brightest area down here. Large trees rose on either side of the path, casting soft shadows over the path. Architecture from every period in existence lined the street: mess halls, libraries, and any kind of shop or public facility you could think of. If you could name it, it was there in some way or another. 

Smaller roads branched off in all directions, leading towards the residential sectors, each marked by the different time periods. You had your ancient times, your renaissance, the lead up to modern times, and modern times among others. Spirits could choose to live in the time where they died or move and try different time periods. You weren’t one to designate living areas; Elysium was basically its own separate entity led by the people, you just helped it out a bit and gave them resources to build.

The main street was unnaturally vacant. Every single time you’d gone down there the streets had been bustling and teeming with the dead as they chatted and socialized. But now? There wasn’t a ghost in sight. There was, however, a small trail of green and flowers growing out of the cobblestones—an almost perfect indicator that showed the path taken by a certain prince of spring. Gods, you’d known he was called a flower child, but you never thought that it was literal.

You followed the green deep into the city, through the winding streets and past residential areas. His trail led you into the 1900’s American area, right up to Martha’s door. He really had been there asking for directions. You could see her peeking out of her window, looking in the direction where James had gone, her skin translucent with anxiety.

You shot a comforting smile at her before following the trail, searching for the god of spring who had once again snuck in under your nose. 

You found him in the middle of a park, turning in small circles as he took in everything around him. 

He was oblivious to your presence. You wanted to keep it like that for a moment. Glancing around, you found a dark shadow and you slunk over to it silently. Fully encompassed in the dark, you took a deep breath and sank back, melting into the shadows.

This strategy allowed you to become invisible to all and move about silently. You became the darkness, using it to your advantage to travel, hide, and spy. You watched the young god carefully, ready to jump out at any moment.

For once, he actually looked normal—a pair of jeans adorning his legs and a blue shirt to match his eyes. Said eyes were filled with awe as he soaked in all that was around him. It was childish, his innocence. He was amazed by anything and everything. He was enamored by his surroundings, and so deeply engrossed that he didn’t notice you emerging from the darkness and stalking over to him.

You came to a stop right behind him and crossed your arms. Narrowing your eyes, you spat, “Is this some sick joke to you?”

He jumped at the sound of your voice, whirling around into a defensive stance. However, he loosened up as soon as he saw you. “Oh,” he breathed a laugh. “It’s just you.”

You frowned. “Yeah, but you’d think that ‘just me’ would make you a little more scared than you are.” You rolled your eyes and let out a low growl. “Is this some sort of game to you? How many times do I have to kick you out of here? How many times until you understand that you don’t belong here?” He seemed to shrink under your gaze but you weren’t done with him. “James, this isn’t a fucking game,” you snapped. “You think it’s fun trying to break in here, dragging me away from my duties, causing chaos and distress in my subjects, but it’s not. It’s really annoying is what it is, and I can’t keep taking time out of my busy schedule to come deal with you.”

He seemed ashamed, but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “I’m sorry for any distress I might’ve caused you, but I can’t get you out of my mind, Hades.” He dug into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a ruby—the same ruby you’d left them after you kicked them out. “You’re nothing like I was taught, and that makes me so damn curious. You don’t seem evil, but you don’t seem quite good.”

Well, that’s a nice sentiment. Your frown only intensified.

Sensing your agitation, he waved his hands in a negating motion. “Nope, that came out wrong. What I mean to say is— Oh my gods, your eyes!”

You blinked. “My eyes? What the fuck do my eyes have to—”

“They’re not red!” He beamed at you. “They’ve been red the past two times I saw you, but now they’re not. Now they’re…” He moved closer to you until he was less than a foot away and peered down at your eyes, his nose wrinkling and his brows knitting together as he focused.

You could feel his breath on your face and it freaked you out. No one was allowed to get that close to you, especially not strangers like him. You brought your hands up to his chest and shoved him back.

Surprised by your strength he stumbled, fighting to keep his footing.

“What the hell? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He still stared at you, his eyes wide and his lips parted slightly. “They’re (e/c)…”

“James,” you snapped. “You have bigger worries than the color of my eyes right now! Specifically, the fact that I’m trying so hard not to drag you straight to your mother and have her put a tracking device on you.” You reached forward and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. His skin was warm against yours, and it sent heat all throughout your body to nestle in your core. You suppressed a shiver as you started to walk towards Elysium’s exit, dragging him behind you every step of the way.

He went with you compliantly. “Why do your eyes turn red?” he asked, innocent curiosity filling his voice.

You huffed. “They turn when I’m stressed, annoyed, or angry usually.”

“So if they’re not red, that means you’re none of those things?”

You hesitated, but he was right. Unlike the other times you’d dealt with him, your feelings were actually pretty muted; you were almost begrudgingly amused if you had to admit it. “I guess not,” you finally answered, pulling him through Elysium’s gates and out into the main Underworld.

He chuckled, the sound breaking the silence that otherwise encompassed the two of you. “Then I guess that means you’re warming up to me?”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Springy. Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I’m not seriously considering it. You’re just lucky that I’m feeling merciful today.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that you’re pretty ruthless. The mortals said you’re cruel.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know about cruel. Yes, I’m strict and firm, but I don’t think that makes me cruel or evil. Death does not yield or make exceptions for anyone, and neither do I.” You cast a glance at him over your shoulder.

He was studying you like you were a novelty, completely intrigued by your whole being.

You shook your head as if it would shake off all thoughts of him. “Anyways.” You pulled him over to the Acheron and stopped at the bank. Turning to him, you fished a gold coin from your pocket. “Give me your hand.” He did so and you pressed the coin into his palm. “Give this to Phil and he’ll take you back to the living side. And this time I mean it when I say that you cannot come back here again. You do not belong in the Underworld and you must stay away. It’s not good for you to keep coming.”

“But I don’t think it’s good for me to keep my distance.” He gazed down at you, his lips puckered as he took your hand in his and laced your fingers together. “Hades, I want to know you, as insane as it makes me seem. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I feel like the fates wanted us to meet and I’m not going to stop until I figure out the reason. Like it or not, I’ll find a way to come back down again, and when I do, I’m just going to ask you questions because I want nothing more than to know you for who you are, not who everyone says you are. So,” he squeezed your hand and gave you a smile filled with so much sincerity you almost thought it was fake, “I guess I’ll see you later.” He let your hand go and took a step back. He retreated to the river bank where Phil was waiting for him, but he never took his eyes off of you, even as he paid Phil and climbed onto the boat.

You paused as you looked at him, your eyes locking on the back of his head in a timid fascination. Why was he so insistent on seeing you? Why was he so persistent? He knew nothing of you and yet that only made him try harder. It was bewildering. 

But it was also endearing and you found yourself smiling softly.

The last you saw of him that day was his form sinking into the mist as he rode the boat to the land of the living, leaving you and the Underworld behind.

Deep down you knew that was not the last you were ever going to see him, and a part of you hoped he’d be back soon.


	7. He Never Listens

“Where’s your head been lately, Buck?”

“Hmm? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean,” Steve said turning his torso to face his best friend, “you’ve been distracted these past few weeks, and I want to know why.”

Bucky only shrugged, his eyes glazing over as he stared down at the mortal city before them. “I dunno, man. I guess I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” Steve was persistent, prodding, desperate to know what was troubling him. “Come on, man, you can tell me anything.”

This was true, but Bucky wasn’t sure he could tell him this: that he was still sneaking into the Underworld when their backs were turned or when he had a spare moment. He wasn’t sure that he could tell Steve that he was enchanted by the only goddess he was forbidden to talk with.

It’d been about two months since his and Hades’ first meeting, and he’d been down there a total of four times since. The first time, she caught him at the border and sent him back after a scolding. The second, he made it to beautiful Elysium, spooked a couple spirits, and had the time of his life before she dragged him out, less annoyed and more amused than the first. But these last two times, even though she told him that he wasn’t allowed to be down there and sent him back, she talked to him like he was an acquaintance. She answered his questions (“Where do you live?” “On the mountain.” “Is it lonely?” “Sometimes, but that’s why I have a dog and friends.” “Am I your friend?” “No.” “Are we ever going to be friends?” “I cannot say.”) and even gave him a smile. That was a personal accomplishment for him.

He felt like he was getting to her, breaking down the walls little by little. Gods, he knew he still had a long way to go, but he couldn’t help but feel proud that he’d gotten as far as he did. The last time he was down there, she didn’t even kick him out that harshly; she just walked him out as if walking guests out from a party and actually said “Goodbye, James” when she left. If that wasn’t progress, Bucky didn’t know what was.

Bucky pursed his lips, debating on how to tell his friend what was going on without really telling him what was going on. “I guess it’s just…” He trailed off, his brain running with ideas and words, none of which were good enough to conceal the truth.

“Yes? It’s just what?”

He nodded his head to the side, before finally saying, “There’s this girl, and I can’t get her out of my head. She’s so different from other people I’ve met before, and it’s wonderful. But I’m not sure how I feel about her or how she feels about me, y’know?” He sighed and lifted his head up to the sky to stare at the clouds. If he focused hard enough, he could almost make out her face in the patterns, as insane as it was. 

“I mean, kinda?” Steve shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never really had that before. What’s her name?”

“Hade— Harriet.”

Steve snorted, his chest jolting with the sudden movement. “Hade-Harriet? What kind of name is that.”

Bucky could feel the color rising up his neck as it tried to creep on his cheeks. He turned his head away. “Her name is Harriet.” *Harriet.* Really? Was that the best he could come up with? Welp, it was going to have to work for now. “She’s really cool, but she’s also stubborn and strict. She’s really insistent on boundaries.”

“Uh-huh, and where did you meet her?”

*Dammit, Steve. Stop asking questions.*

“I—uh—I met her in the Mortal World. You and Sam were napping and I wanted to go shopping, so I went down to the mainland to see what stores there were. And we just kinda ran into each other, you know.”

Bucky was impressed with how easily he had fabricated the story, he just hoped that Steve bought it.

Steve didn’t, but he didn’t get a chance to call Bucky on his bullshit.

The wind picked up, swirling all around the two men. The grass spun around them, blowing violently, bringing the smell of plants along with it. The wind funneled, creating a narrow tube. The wind grew hazy, thick with grain and greens, as it moved to a spot in front of them.

Steve straightened up, his shoulders rolling back to appear more formal.

Bucky did the same, for he knew what this wind meant: the arrival of his mother.

When the wind cleared, a woman with dark hair to match Bucky’s and startling green eyes stood before them. She was dressed in a deep green suit, gold ornaments woven into her hair. She beamed down at the two, her eyes sparkling when she laid eyes on her son. “Hello, James,” she greeted, her voice as strong as her finest plants and her smile as warm as the sun that fed them.

“Mother!” Bucky rose to his full height, a good five inches taller than his mother, and took fast strides over to her to engulf her in a hug.

“Oh, my baby boy,” she said as she hugged him tightly. “It’s been too long! How are things? How are you doing? Staying out of trouble I assume?” 

“Oh yes, Mrs. B,” Steve chimed. “Sam and I have been doing a good job at keeping James here straight.”

She smiled. “Good. Speaking of which, where is Sam?”

“Oh, he’s down in the city grabbing us some cheeseburgers. He lost rock paper scissors and got sacrificed to go on the food run.”

At this, Winnifred frowned. “You know I don’t like you boys going down there. Why don’t you go up to Olympus for lunch instead? There’s this cafe that makes the best ambrosia ever! You simply must try it.”

Bucky gave her a polite smile. “Alright, Mother. We’ll go there next time for lunch.” He cleared his throat, starting to change the subject. “So, why have you come?”

“Oh, you know. I had a bit of a break at the office and decided to come visit my son, make sure he’s doing well and— Wait, what’s that smell?”

*Fuck.*

“Wh-What smell?” Bucky asked, trying so hard to keep his voice steady and even. He knew damn well what smell, but he wasn’t going to point that out.

His mother scrunched her nose in disgust. “It smells like death. What the—” She turned her eyes towards Bucky, seemingly fixating on him and glowering.

Bucky felt the color drain from his cheeks. He was done for. She knew. She knew it was him and—

“What the hell is happening here?” She marched towards him, passing him with an air of agitation. She stopped at a tree several yards behind the boys and stared at it with a glare. “James, this tree is dying, and you didn’t save it?” She reached out and pressed her palm flat against its trunk. Instantly the dark bark began to lighten with life as she rejuvenated it. “Honestly, James. You’re supposed to be a god of spring. The least you can do is keep alive what little area I gave you.” She shot a teasing smile at him over her shoulder.

Bucky almost laughed with relief, but instead, he adopted a more serious demeanor. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll do better next time.”

“You’d better if you want to become an even better god!” She pulled away from the tree before walking back to the boys. “Well, I’m sorry to have to leave so soon, but I only came for a short visit. Work is busy as ever in the spring and I need to keep tabs on all the harvests.” She smiled at Steve. “You tell Sam ‘hello’ for me and keep an eye on my boy, you hear?”

Steve nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“Good. Then…” She turned to Bucky and held her arms out. “Give your mother one last hug.”

Bucky chuckled but complied. “Mother, you don’t have to treat me like a kid anymore. I’m more than a thousand years old.”

“I know, but you’ll always be my baby boy.” She kissed his cheek before pulling away from him. “I’ll see you soon, my child. Until the next time.” And just like that, she was gone; vanished into a cloud of grain and wheat.

As soon as she was gone, Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. He was always tense around his mother, even more so now that he had something to hide. He just hoped that she would never find out his dirty little secret.

———

It was another few days before Bucky was able to sneak away from Steve and Sam again. It was in the dead of the night, when they were sleeping, that Bucky crept away, staying as silent as possible. He walked away from the clearing that the boys had chosen to sleep in, and summoned a pair of dark jeans and a blue shirt to clothe him. The garments materialized on his body as they did for every god, taking the place of his pajamas. Using the cover of night, he slipped away.

A perk of being a god, even a minor, fledgling one like him, was the teleportation. With a destination on his mind, Bucky could travel anywhere on Heaven and Earth that he wanted. And it was through this, that Bucky appeared on Cape Matapan, a small landmass at the end of Greece’s Mani Peninsula. The mortals had said that the elaborate network of caves there concealed an entrance to Hades. They were right, although it was a difficult journey. But Bucky had been using these caves to get into the Underworld ever since Hades sealed off the Dikteon Cave and tightened security at the Acheron. She wasn’t quite aware of this entrance yet and Bucky wanted to keep it like that. After all, he was starting to run out of ways to sneak in under her nose.

Bucky took a couple of steps into the cave before pausing and leaning down. A flashlight was nestled against the wall of the cave, right where he’d left it the last time. His fingers wrapped around the metal cylinder of the flashlight and he flicked it on. The beam pierced the darkness of the cave, illuminating the tunnels ahead, and he began the short journey down.

Slopes and declines in the path took him deeper and deeper into the earth; and as he descended, he could feel the life seeping out of the air—a telltale sign that he was nearing his destination.

He walked for twenty or so minutes before he hit the end of the tunnel network. The cavern opened up slightly, still darkened with a black that swallowed up any and all light around. 

Bucky grinned. He’d made it down, and now all he had to do was take a step in. He flicked off the flashlight, plunging the cave into darkness and set it down on the ground before walking right into the mass of black before him. It was cold as always, stealing any sign of warmth and life from his bones, and it made him shudder, but he pushed on. Eventually he was tossed out onto the other side, right at the edge of a flower meadow. The cave behind him sealed, taking on the facade of being a simple wall, but Bucky knew what it was. He stumbled a bit as he emerged, but he caught his footing pretty quickly. He wasn’t going to fall like he had the first time, not when there were so many spirits around to bear witness to it.

He straightened up and looked over the area.

Shades milled about the field—the Asphodel Meadows, he thought it was called—all minding their own business as they floated aimlessly. Very few paid him any attention, but that didn’t bother him. The less attention he drew, the better. Beyond the Meadows, he saw the gates of Elysium rising high and the mountain right next to it. The black mansion at its peak was daunting as ever, and yet that was his destination. Bucky wondered how close he’d make it this time before Hades found him and sent him home.

Determined to at least make it to the base of her mountain, Bucky started walking. The shades around him parted, making a narrow path in his wake and allowing him easier means to reach his destination. Of course, he could’ve just walked through them, but that would’ve been rude and his mother had raised him to be a gentleman.

The mountain grew larger as he neared, towering over him and becoming more and more intimidating with every step. He could begin to make out the details of Hades’ mansion now and even see figures moving behind the frosted glass of the windows. She was home, and she had company. 

He hesitated. If Hades had guests over, as surprising as that would be, maybe he shouldn’t impose. He could always come back another time or—

“Back again, I see.”

He squeaked and whirled around, lifting his hands to defend himself in case of an attack. But none ever came.

Instead, Hades just crossed her arms and smirked, her red-coated lips quirked up with amusement. “Did I startle you, little prince?”

Bucky scoffed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “No. You just caught me off guard.”

“So I startled you?”

“Well… Maybe.” He shook his head and looked her over.

The other times he’d weaseled his way in and she’d come to greet him, she’d always looked professional, prim, and proper. She would always be adorned with a black business blazer, pressed pants, and an elegant pair of flats. Her eyes would always be shrouded with a smokey eye and her lips would always glow as red as her eyes. Her hair would always be styled, not a single hair out of place. But this time there was no makeup on her face that was apparent to him, strands of loose hair flew every-which-way in a fashion that was unruly but still attractive, and she was dressed in a more casual attire of black jeans that hugged her legs, a plain grey shirt that hung loosely from her shoulders, and black sneakers. 

If Bucky had an opinion, he would’ve said that she looked as attractive as ever, but he didn’t have an opinion. He lifted his chin with a smile. “How did you get down here so fast?”

“I sensed you coming. Using the shadows, I came to your side.” She gestured down to the shadows of the flowers that fell on the ground. She was standing in one like she’d just risen from it. 

“But I just saw you and someone else in the window and I thought that you had company.”

“Oh, I do,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “But it’s just Peggy. She was on her way out anyway; she has her own paperwork to get to.”

“Peggy? Goddess of magic, crossroads, ghosts—”

“And other things,” Hades confirmed. “The mortals call her Hecate, but her name is Peggy.” Hades turned her head away from him and looked up at the mansion on the mountain. “She’s up there with my dog. I sometimes think that she likes him more than she likes me.” She chuckled.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.” Bucky smiled softly at her, keeping his head down so he could see her easier and she could see his face.

She scrunched her nose. “Really? You seriously did not know that I have a dog? Cerberus is in nearly every myth about me, and he helps guard the entrance to the Underworld to make sure the souls don’t get out.”

Bucky had no idea. He never read the myths, he only knew some names of the other gods. With a sheepish laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight from side to side. “N-No I didn’t. I—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence because, at that moment, Hades brought two fingers up to her mouth and whistled. The sound rang loud and clear through the still air and a crash followed it almost immediately.

Rapid movement from the mansion atop the mountain drew his eye, and he saw a black mass bounding down the path of the mountain. It was moving at a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a normal dog, drawing dangerously close with every second. Bucky was tempted to run away—he’d never seen anything like this before—but Hades, with her calm demeanor as she watched the figure approaching with only an amused smile betraying her emotion, coaxed him to stay. He stood his ground, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the black mass.

As it neared, its details became clear. He saw the animal’s shaggy black fur shining in the dim light of the Underworld and its glowing red eyes staring at him and Hades. Its tongue was hanging out of its mouth, its lips spread wide as if it was grinning. When it came within three yards of the pair, it let out a loud yelp before leaping into the air right at Hades. Bucky was certain it was going to knock her down, but she opened her arms and caught him as easily as if it were a child.

She laughed, the sound music to Bucky’s ears, as the wolf-like creature attacked her face with its tongue. “Cerberus!” she cried, her voice as light and airy as Bucky had ever heard it. “Get down! I’ve taught you better than this.”

It was then that Bucky realized that this was her dog. His lips split back into a smile. “Well isn’t he a handsome thing.”

“You think this is great, you should see him at his full height.” She grinned down at her dog, cupping his face in her hands. “He’s huge, and all three of his heads come out. It’s sad though, I only have two hands and I can’t pet them all.”

Bucky snorted, but said nothing, opting to observe instead. He was fascinated with the scene in front of him. He’d never seen Hades so relaxed; she was always ushering him out as fast as she could, and it was amazing for him to see her like this. It made his heart race in his chest and his smile widen to an uncomfortable size. It made his head light and his stomach flip. It made him happy.

Hades pulled away from Cerberus and turned to look at Bucky. “I figured you two ought to be acquainted since he’ll be helping me kick you out from now on, or doing it himself if I’m too busy to deal with you.” She glanced at him through her eyelashes.

Bucky feigned being hurt and clutched his chest with his hand. “I’m not even going to have the pleasure of being escorted out by the Queen of the Underworld?”

“Not when she’s too busy dealing with queenly things to take care of your ass.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Now, come on. You know the drill.” She jerked her head in the direction of the Acheron. 

Bucky groaned. “Oh, come on! I just got here!”

“And now you’re just leaving.” She rubbed Cerberus’ head one more time before reaching forward and grabbing Bucky’s wrist. “I’ve got shit to deal with right now. Filing away souls, welcoming new Elysium residents, going over appeals for Elysium admittance; my job is never done.”

Bucky walked with her, staring at the hair on the back of her head and tracing the patterns of the strands. “Yeah? What else do you do?”

She shrugged, but answered, “A variety of things: manage the other gods down here, maintain border security, deal with difficult souls that want to cause disturbances, walk my dog, sometimes go around Elysium and mark up renovations that need to happen. You name it, I probably deal with it in one way or another. That’s what happens when you rule a realm.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes glinting with interest. “It seems like you really care about people down here.”

“Oh, I do,” Hades agreed. “They’re my subjects, mine to protect and guard. I love them like my family.” She smiled fondly, her lips twitching up as her eyes crinkled at the corners. “There’s a bunch of good people down here, but there are also some bad…” Her smile dissolved and her eyes flickered towards the far wall of the Underworld where the Phlegethon flowed. “But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is how you’ve managed to keep sneaking down here. Would you care to clue me in?”

He smirked. “You know, I would but then you’d just go and block it off and I’d never be able to return.”

“You’re damn right. You’re causing major security concerns whenever you get in without me knowing until you’re already down here.” She was deadly serious now, and Bucky could feel it radiating off her in waves. “If you can get in, then that means other things can too. And I don’t know if you’ve been made aware or not, but we’ve got some big-shot prisoners down here that enemies of the gods would just love to set free. If they were to find out that the Underworld has a security breach, then who knows what kind of chaos they could unleash.” She glanced at him, just barely turning her head in his direction. “I need to know, James. How are you getting in?”

Bucky nibbled at his lip and turned his head up. He was thinking. 

On one hand, he could see where Hades was coming from, and logically he knew he should tell her where his entrance was, but on the other he was afraid she was going to seal him out forever. He’d grown attached to the Underworld, finding it interesting, unique, and beautiful. He wanted to know more about it, explore it, and see what made Hades love it so. He wasn’t ready to give it up, but he knew he had to share. 

Bucky crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, reluctance rolling off him in waves, before admitting, “Cape Matapan. The myths said that if you go down deep enough into the caves, then you’ll reach the Underworld and, well, they’re right. I’ve used them the past couple of times.”

And at that, she smiled at him. Not one of the half-smiles she’d been giving him, but a full-blown smile that lit up her entire face. 

It made Bucky’s heart flutter with exhilaration, and he couldn’t help but think that he should do things to make her smile more. She was breathtaking; drop-dead gorgeous.

She continued to smile at him as she said, “Thank you, James. I really appreciate your honesty.”

He smiled back and nodded. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I’ve been a pain in the ass, but there’s just something about being down here that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

She chuckled. “I know the feeling. It’s very peaceful and calm down here. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

From there, they started walking in silence, drawing nearer and nearer towards the Acheron. At some point in time, they began to walk next to the Cocytus, the river that fed into the Acheron. The water wailed beside them, the pitiful cries of souls long past that had become trapped in the water’s rush filling the air. The sounds made shivers run down Bucky’s spine.

But it wasn’t just the noise that made Bucky uneasy, although Hades seemed unaffected, it was the figure standing about a dozen yards away from him and Hades.

The man lurking along the river bank was obviously a naiad. He sported the same blue tint to his skin that all water nymphs did, the water beside him only highlighting the features. His dark hair was coiffed and his jawline was marked with a short stubble that came from not shaving in a few days. His heavyset, brown eyes cut through the air as they stared at him and Hades, filling the air with suffocating intensity. His arms were crossed as his eyes trailed Hades. He watched her, studied her, with his unrelenting and almost predatory gaze. 

Bucky wasn’t sure why, but looking at that man watch Hades like she was his made Bucky’s blood boil. For the first time in his life, Bucky wanted to pick a fight with a man—this man. He sneered. “Who’s that?”

“Hmm?” Hades tore her gaze away from the road ahead and followed his line of sight towards the man on the river bank. She stiffened, her lips forming a hard line as she stared at him. “No one,” she murmured, but Bucky wasn’t entirely certain that was the truth.

He could feel his body gravitating towards hers protectively, his shoulders rolling back and his chest puffing out to make him seem more like a threat. He did all in his power to radiate “back off’ vibes, but he wasn’t sure how successful he actually was.

Successful or not, the naiad stayed away, opting to simply watch them as they passed.

They followed the river the rest of the way until it fed into the Acheron before stopping. 

Hades stood at the river’s edge, the water just barely missing her toes where they sat. She looked up at Bucky. “Well, I guess this is your stop.”

Bucky didn’t want it to be, but he said, “Yeah, I guess it is.” He looked down with a frown.

As if sensing his dismay, Hades sighed and dug into her pocket. “I cannot believe I am doing this,” she muttered, pulling out a small leather pouch. Bucky watched her with curiosity as she fiddled with the straps and held it out to him. “Here.”

Bucky took the pouch and pulled it open. Inside there lay about two dozen brown seeds, none of which Bucky recognized. His brows furrowed. “What are these?”

“They’re Asphodel seeds,” she answered, shifting her weight. “They’re what I use to get to the Underworld. You plant one, and a hole will open up for about thirty seconds. Jump in, and you’ll pop out here with only a flower in your stead. You’ll be deposited back into the Asphodel Meadows, but you’ll still be down here.”

Bucky stared at her, dumbfounded. “Wait, you mean you’re just giving me a key to the Underworld?”

“Yes I am, but don’t make me change my mind.” She rolled her eyes. “This is simply because I don’t want you hurting yourself trying to find a way in. And just because I gave you a way in doesn’t mean you can come down every day. You only have so many seeds and each is good for a one-time-one-way trip. There are no do-overs nor repeats, you hear?”

“I hear.” He smiled softly down at her. “Thank you, Hades.”

“(y/n).”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My name. It’s (y/n). You keep calling me ‘Hades.’ No doubt you got that from the myths too, but that’s just the name the mortals gave me. (y/n) is my true name.” She shuffled her feet anxiously, but Bucky couldn’t have been happier.

He didn’t know why, and perhaps she didn’t either, but she was opening up to him. It made him happy, and he figured that if she was willing to share something, he should too. “Then my name is Bucky. Only my mother calls me ‘James.’ To everyone else I’m Bucky.”

Her nose crinkled. “Bucky? Where the Hades did they get that from?”

“My middle name: Buchanan. I know it’s a little weird, but it’s the most familiar name to me. James just feels so formal and uptight; I’d much rather be Bucky.”

“Bucky,” she repeated, testing out the syllables on her tongue. “Alright, Bucky it is.” She straightened up and smiled at him, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. My name is (y/n), goddess of the dead and Queen of the Underworld.”

Bucky took her hand, a matching smile adorning his face. Her hand was cold as death, but he didn’t care. The warm feeling the contact brought to his chest was worth it. “It’s my pleasure, (y/n). I’m Bucky, god of spring. I hope we can get along and be friends.”

“Yes… Friends… I think I could get used to that.” She nodded and squeezed his hand. “Then, until next time.”

“Until then.” Letting go of her hand, he pulled away and mounted the ferry that had come to take him home. His eyes never once left her, not even when the boat pushed off and into the river. He only lost sight of her when he crossed over into the Mortal World and a wall of mist and fog separated them. He sighed as she vanished, turning to the ferryman—Phil Coulson, he thought was his name.

Phil looked down at him sympathetically. “You’re never going to stop coming down, are you?”

“No, I don’t think I am.” Bucky smiled softly up at him. “I guess you’ll be seeing me a bit more often now.”

“Oh joy. Yet another god I have to deal with.” Phil rolled his eyes. “I just hope you’re less of a pain in my ass than the others.”

Bucky chuckled. “I will do my best to be better than them.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine.” Phil smiled as they came to the mortal side of the Acheron and stopped at the bank. It was dawn now, the sun was just barely rising above the horizon.

Bucky frowned in confusion. “Morning already? It was night when I left and I know I wasn’t down there for that long. How is already morning?”

“Time seems to flow faster works in the Underworld,” Phil said as he tied the ferry to the land. “They say that death feels like nothing.” He pulled the ferry to a stop in the Mortal World and turned to Bucky. “You take care of yourself, godling.”

“You too, Phil.” Bucky stepped off the ferry and appeared again just outside the field where Steve and Sam should’ve been sleeping. He had to be quiet. This early in the morning, his friends were easily aroused and he didn’t want them to know he’d left.

Bucky had teleported right behind a tree where he had a full view of the field. Steve and Sam should’ve been sleeping in the middle of the meadow, but there was one body missing. Bucky frowned and crouched down. Where was Steve? Did he get up early? Oh shit, did he notice that Bucky was missing? Bucky held his breath as his eyes scanned the field, searching for his friend desperately. 

“Looking for somebody?”

Bucky nearly screamed. He turned around, probably white with fear.

Steve had his hands on his hips and was glowering down at his best friend, his eyes intense and slightly pissed. “Where were you?”

“I… Uh…” Bucky had to lie, and lie now. “I went down the mountain to the village.” 

“No, you didn’t. I checked there. I checked the whole island.” Steve’s glare only intensified. “Now, where were you?”


	8. Her Thoughts Conflict

As soon as James—no, _Bucky_—crossed through the barrier, you were spinning around on your heel and running back down the river. Your heart was racing, your palms were sweating, and your thoughts were running. What was he doing out? 

Your legs could not carry you fast enough towards the Cocytus. You had to find him. Why was he here now? Couldn’t he see that you were busy and didn’t have time for his shit and shenanigans? What the hell did he want now?

He hadn’t moved from his spot on the river bank. His signature smirk warped his lips, his deep eyes staring at you with a famished lust as you approached.

You couldn’t believe him and his lack of shame. He knew better than to look at you like that in public, even if the entirety of the Underworld was your private domain. Your blood boiled with every step you took, ready to rip him a new one. You marched right up to him, ready to yell at him, and called, “Brock—” But you didn’t get very far in your scolding.

His hands were on your hips faster than you knew and his lips were on yours in a feverish intensity. You could feel the need rolling off him and it made your stomach do flips. You felt your legs weaken at the familiar feeling of his kiss, the need you felt matching his. You whimpered into the kiss, the sound pathetic in the back of your throat. It was embarrassing really, just how fast a simple river naiad could turn you, the Queen of the Underworld, into a pile of mush.

You wound your arms up around his neck, leaning against him with a sigh as he kissed you. Your eyes fluttered closed as his hands found the hem of your shirt and lifted it up ever so slightly so that his skin could touch yours. His fingers were warm, but they sent shivers down your spine.

He pushed you back so you were taking small, unsteady steps. His hands were pressed against the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body.

You didn’t want to do this here—not out in the open where unwanted ears could hear and eyes could see. Moving your arms away from his neck and bringing them under his arms to clutch his shoulder blades, you lurched back, calling on the shadows around you to bend space, and suddenly you were in your mansion, in your bedroom with which he was all too familiar with. 

He knew exactly where to lead you so your back would hit the wall, giving him something to prop you against as he took his hands from your back and slid them behind your thighs, lifting you up so you were seated on his hips. One hand made its way to your back once again while the other cradled the back of your neck and tangled its fingers in the hair at the base of your head. He tugged gently, drawing a moan from you. With your mouth open, he took advantage of the opportunity and slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You would never get used to the feeling of having him try to dominate you like this. As queen, very few people defied you, much less try to take over, but Brock Rumlow—that damned naiad—always managed to do it. And you, for once, were powerless to stop him. 

You inhaled sharply and squeezed your hands into fists. The smell of him was enticing, the sensation euphoric, and the feeling familiar. You let him explore you for the millionth time, opting to just revel in the moment.

His tongue took over, running over every inch it could. When he finally had his fill of your mouth, he pulled away and migrated to your jaw, placing hungry kisses on the skin and making his way down to your neck.

You groaned as you lifted your head and dug your nails into the skin on his back. “Brock…”

He pulled away just enough to murmur, “Shhh,” his husky voice breaking the silence of the room. “Shhh, don’t say a word.” Placing his lips back on your skin, he sucked at your neck, undoubtedly trying to leave his mark on you.

“Brock,” you tried again, pulling your hands from his back to place them against his chest. “Stop.” You opened your eyes to see the world coated in red—though whether the color change was from the annoyance that was building up in your throat or your own need that had made its home in the pit of your stomach, you weren’t sure.

He didn’t stop, continuing to kiss you in ways that would normally have you begging for more.

But you weren’t really in the mood for it tonight. You pushed him back, tearing his mouth from your neck and setting him at a distance where you could see his face.

He whined at the lack of contact, his pupils blown wide with need. “(y/n)…”

“Don’t,” you snapped, the red only intensifying in your sight. “I’m mad at you right now.”

“Oh, come on, Precious,” he cooed, his lips turning down in a pout. “Don’t be like that.”

“No, I will be like that.” You pushed him again, making him put you down and take a step back. He was taller than you—though not quite as tall as Bucky, you noticed—and so you glowered up at him. “You disappear for almost a year without warning or notice, and then you come back like nothing’s happened?” You jabbed your finger into his chest. “And then you just expect me to welcome you back with open arms? Nuh-uh. I want an explanation. Where were you? Why didn’t you answer any of my calls? Why did you choose right now to come back?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ghosted you like that. But you were getting busy and didn’t have any time for me and I needed a small break, (y/n). I’m sorry I went away so suddenly, but I’m back now, okay?”

“No, not okay.” You crossed your arms in a pout. “I was lonely without you. I kept waiting for you to come back; I started to doubt that you ever would. That was really mean.”

The corner of his lips turned up in a soft smirk. “I’m sorry. Is there any way I could make it up to you, my queen?”

_My_ queen.

Gods, when he said it like that it did things to you. 

You felt your cheeks redden as the rouge in your vision only intensified. “You could kiss me like you missed me.”

He laughed. “Gladly.”

———

Brock Rumlow: the naiad of the Cocytus and your long-time… Well, if you were honest, you weren’t entirely sure what he was to you. Your relationship was what the mortals would call “complicated.”

You’d met shortly after you’d assumed control of the Underworld. As the spirit of one of the rivers, you made it your business to get to know him. He was charming, as always, and well-spoken. He knew the words to make your legs feel like jelly and he knew how to make you feel like the queen you were getting used to being. He was, without a doubt, one of your most loyal subjects.

There’d always been an underlying tone of sexual tension between the two of you. He was attractive and made you feel powerful or cared for depending on what you needed, and after about a thousand years the two of you pursued a “relationship” of sorts.

But it wasn’t really a relationship. You two would have “dinner dates” which would eventually lead to sleeping together, hangouts which would lead to sleeping together, or even just flat out sleeping together. He always managed to find a way into your bed but then he’d always disappear the next day. It wasn’t real love.

You weren’t sure why you let him toy with your emotions the way he did—maybe it was because he was the only thing you’d known for centuries, maybe it was because he was familiar, maybe it was because you were _lonely_—but whatever the reason, you let him stay. 

Even now, with his head pressed against your bare chest and your fingers tangled in his short, rough, nearly black hair, with nothing but a thin sheet shielding you from the rest of the world, you knew he was just going to leave you as soon as he woke up. Who knew how long he’d stick around this time.

You wished he’d stay for forever, but you knew that wasn’t possible. Brock didn’t do commitment (he’d made that clear when you’d mentioned to him in passing potentially making him king of the Underworld), and you didn’t have the heart to make him. So, as much as it pained you, you took what little affection and love you could get from him and did your best to reciprocate. 

You looked down your nose at his head which rose and fell with your breathing and tugged gently at his hair.

He groaned in his sleep, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulled you closer. 

Your heart ached. You weren’t sure if you loved him, but you knew you felt some kind of way about him; you knew you hoped he felt the same. Brock was the only love you had known, even if that love was kinda fucked up.

A buzzing on the nightstand beside you drew you out of your thoughts. You glanced away from Brock to see your phone screen lit up with a single unread text message. With a quiet but exasperated groan, you untangled your fingers from Brock’s hair and reached for the little box. You picked it up and squinted at the screen, the bright light hurting your eyes.

The locked screen displayed three texts in quick succession.

> _(y/n). Hey, (y/n). You up?_

You frowned at the screen before swiping your thumb across it and opening up the text.

> _who is this?_

The response came almost immediately.

> _It’s Bucky!_

You frowned but typed back quickly.

> _how did you get this number?_

> _I asked your sisters. Queen Carol was more than happy to give me your number when I told her that we were friends. She said something along the lines of “thank gods, my sister is finally getting a life” or something. Idk, but she was happy to hear that you were meeting new people._

You groaned and muttered a quick “fuck” under your breath, but your thumb was moving across the screen quickly and quietly as you tried your hardest to not disturb Brock’s sleep.

> _yeah, that sounds like my dearest sister. ill have to remind her later not to give my phone number out to strange men_

> _But am I really a strange man?_

> _youre as strange as they come_

> _I’ll take that as a compliment._

> _you do that_

A smile danced on your lips. This was utterly ridiculous. Not only were his replies as silly and stupid as they would’ve been in person, but you were in bed with one man texting with another which was a whole issue in and of itself. Gods, if your mother saw you now, she’d have a heart attack.

You chuckled to yourself before continuing to text Bucky.

> _well mr. strange, now that you have my number what do you intend to do with it?_

> _For one thing: correct your grammar. Seriously? No capitalization and hardly any punctuation? _

> _well when youre as old as i am, you just dont give a fuck anymore_

> _Hmph, you can’t be that old_

> _im pushing 2000+ buck. i am that old_

> _Alright, fair enough._

> _will you do anything else besides annoy me about my grammar?_

> _Well, of course. I was thinking that, since you gave me these seeds and everything and lectured me about how you’re a busy gal and all who doesn’t always have the time to deal with me, I’d text you before coming down. You know, just to make sure you’re not busy with queenly things._

You bit your lip and heaved a sigh. What a goof. 

Taking your other hand away from Brock’s back, you now used both hands to text Bucky, fully engrossed in the conversation. 

> _thats surprisingly considerate of you james _

> _I’m a surprisingly considerate guy. And it’s Bucky, remember?_

> _i remember i just want to irritate you_

_Ha ha ha. So not funny._

> _its a little funny_

> _Whatever. Anyways, I am also wondering if now would be a good time to pop in?_

> _werent you like just here?_

> _No, that was a couple of days ago. Did you hit your head or something?_

You frowned and looked down at Brock. Had he really kept you occupied for that long? It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d gone on for days without end, but it still surprised you nonetheless. But then again you were immortal which meant that time was irrelevant—unless you were dealing with new gods, it seemed.

> _i hardly pay attention to time. it doesnt matter to me_

> _Fair enough. My question still stands. Is now a good time to come down?_

You hesitated, your fingers so tempted to type “yes,” but the man on your breast saying no. You held your phone to the side as you looked down at Brock’s peaceful face. You weren’t quite ready to break the stillness that encompassed the two of you.

> _actually rn is not such a good time. i have company over_

His reply was slow.

> _Oh. Alright. _

> _im really sorry buck. ill text you when im free?_

> _It’s fine! I was just free right now and was wondering. Yeah, if you want to, I’d love to see you again soon._

He wanted to see you. He wanted to be in your company. He’d love to see you again. 

That was more than any other man had expressively wanted, and it, for some reason, made your heart flutter.

The smile on your face then was one you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t pleased, it wasn’t happy, but it was almost touching and endearing. The warm feeling in the pit of your stomach was foreign to you, but you liked it. Because you were wanted.

As strange as it is for a queen to say, you were happy to be wanted. 

Your fingers rapped against the phone screen.

> _soon_

It was a single word, but it was a promise and one you intended to keep.

Smiling at the screen, you failed to notice the waking man beneath you until he groaned.

“I hope you’re smiling at me like that, Precious,” Brock mumbled, the side of his face still plastered to your chest. 

You glanced at him down your nose, smirked, and locked your phone setting it back down on the nightstand. “No. I’m looking at cat videos.”

“Ugh. Those things? Don’t the mortals ever get tired of their pets?”

“No, and they’re adorable, thank you very much. If I didn’t have Cerberus, I’d have a cat. Even then, I’m still considering adopting one and making it immortal too.” You chuckled and moved your hands back to his hair. Swirling the short locks between your fingers, you hummed and smiled softly. “Did you sleep well?’

“Always do when I’m with you,” he mused, pulling his face off your skin and crawling up you so he was hovering over your torso. He bent down and locked lips with you.

You smiled into the kiss, a small laugh escaping when you broke for breath. “Brock,” you whined. “Again?”

He grinned. “I’d like to go again, Precious.” His words held vows of another fun time, but his tone held nothing but empty promises.

Your smile dissolved into a frown. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

He breathed a laugh. “You always did know me, (y/n).” He shuffled off of you, clamored out of your bed, and began to collect his clothes from where they’d been discarded carelessly on the floor.

You turned on your side to stare at him, pulling your sheet up to cover your chest. “You’re leaving again.” The way you said it, with your lips drawn into a disappointed pout, made it a statement and not a question.

“Unfortunately, Precious.” He pulled on his pants which hugged his legs in all the right ways before tugging on his shirt and covering his torso, still damp with sweat. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Work? Is that what you’ve been doing for the past ten months?” You could see the red begin to creep into your vision as bitterness and malice took root in your heart. “Is that why you left me?”

He sighed heavily. “(y/n), we talked about this.”

“No, we didn’t. You said that I had been too busy and that you needed a break.” You narrowed your eyes. “And frankly, I’m calling bullshit on that.” He opened his mouth to protest but you simply waved your hand to silence him. “You had hardly seen me in weeks, and if I recall correctly—which I _know_ I do—it was one of the rare times where everything was calm for once. I had all the time in the Underworld for you but you just up and went without a word. And now you seem to think you can come back, sleep with me, and make everything alright again.” Your voice began to crack, letting loose a small river of emotions you had tried to keep from him. “I _miss_ you, Brock. Please don’t leave me again.”

He winced as if your words hurt him and padded back over to the bed. Leaning over you, he cupped your cheek with his broad hand and pressed his lips to your forehead.

You let out a trembling sigh, closed your eyes, and leaned into his touch.

His skin left your’s way sooner than you would’ve liked and he looked down at you. “I’m sorry, Precious. But I swear, one day, this will all make sense to you.” You opened your eyes in time to see him smiling down at you. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised before pulling away from you completely and exiting the bedroom. You could hear his footsteps as he descended the staircase right outside your door and made his way through the house to the front door.

You slid out of bed, the sheet still wrapped around you, and walked over to the window that oversaw your front porch and the entirety of the Underworld. You watched as Brock exited your house and began to make his way down the mountain, growing smaller and smaller as he grew farther and farther away.

When he finally disappeared, you felt something in your chest break… again. Yet another piece of your heart crumbled away as he left. He’d said that you’d understand one day; you craved the day he’d finally make sense to you.

You spent the next week lingering around the house. It was a “mental health week” you’d decided and you used it to mope and eat ice cream as you did when he left you alone. The house was quiet—too quiet. Not even Peggy or Cerberus could lift your spirits while you sank in your misery. You had nothing to do, nothing to be.

On the eighth day of your sulking, you realized that this was pointless. You found yourself wondering why you bothered with him. Why you bothered with these emotions, why you bothered with being upset that he left you.

You needed to get out of the house. You needed to spend time with someone. 

Your eyes flickered to the coffee table where your phone rested on the surface. You hesitated for only a moment before you swiped it, pulled up your messages, and typed a quick text before sending it off. 

> _hey im free right now if you still want to come down_

Bucky’s response was immediate.

> _Planting a seed now._

———

Behind your mansion, just a short way down the mountain, stood an extensive garden. Filled with fruit-bearing trees, large bushes, and flowers of all kinds, it was your miniature refuge from the rest of the Underworld. It was isolated, kept away from all the death and gloominess that sometimes infected the rest of your realm. It was silent and beautiful.

Maintained by a small team of shades who had been gardeners in life but now resided in Elysium and wanted to continue their craft even in death, the flowers were in bloom year-round and everything was always healthy and lovely. 

You loved being there, removed from your title and responsibilities. It was a place where you could just be (y/n). It was your secret garden, and you couldn’t believe that you were sharing it with someone. 

You sat on one of the white marble benches, watching Bucky as he roamed through the trees, his eyes alight with wonder and a wide smile on his face.

You’d decided to take him down there shortly after he arrived, realizing that, when you’d invited him down, you had nothing for the two of you to do. However, with a bit of quick thinking on your part, you deduced that a nature god such as himself would appreciate a garden. And that’s how you ended up taking him down to your secret refuge, someplace that not even Brock or Peggy had been invited to.

Yes, you were a fucking idiot, but he seemed happy about it.

“I still can’t believe that there are living things down here!” Bucky exclaimed, his voice filled with awe and pleasant surprise. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You sound so shocked. Is it really that unbelievable that I have plants?”

He laughed and averted his gaze. “A little. My mother always said this place was evil and was nothing but death all the time.”

“Hmph. Not very surprising. Demeter’s always lied about me, trying to paint me as some merciless demon goddess who hates all life.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s bullshit really. But I guess I shouldn’t say that about your mother.”

He looked at you, his face betraying nothing but stoic indifference. “You know, the more I get to know and see different sides of you, I see how she’s wrong and that she’s lied about everything.” He frowned. “The only thing I don’t understand is why she would do all of this though.”

You simply shrugged. “She just doesn’t like me. She blames me for a lot of the death that happens in the world despite the fact that I’m not actually the goddess of death and death is just a part of life.” You looked at the tree to your right and pressed your palm against the bark. “It’s what makes life beautiful: you know there’s an inevitable end, and so you know you need to cherish it while you have it.”

“I know what you mean,” he said as he started to approach you. He stopped right in front of you, smiling softly down. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I can just tell by the way you sit here, so relaxed and at peace, that this place means a lot to you, and it means a lot to me to see this side of the great Queen Hades.”

You smirked up at him. “It’s (y/n), remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” he said, quoting your taunts. “I just want to irritate you.” He offered his hand out to you. “Walk with me? Show me around a bit.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanna know more about this place. You know, when I first thought about where a Queen of the Underworld would live, I was expecting a palace with, like, a giant throne room.”

“I had that once,” you admitted, “but then I didn’t really see a point in keeping such a large space. So I remodeled.”

“But don’t you have a throne?”

“Sure I do. It’s big and black and made entirely of obsidian and souls of the damned.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” He sounded a bit uneasy, but there was a hint of amusement on his tongue.

“Oh, I’m not joking. It’s in the basement.”

“Interesting… Now, about showing me around the garden…” 

You grinned and hung your head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Oh, I’m aware. My friends remind me every day.”

You took his hand. “Alright, idiot. You probably know what kinds of plants these are, but you don’t know the names I gave them. Allow me to introduce you.” You stood and began to lead him by the hand. First, you stopped by a large bush, filled to the brim with little pink flowers. Waving your hand with a flourish, you said, “Bucky, this is Petunia. Right next to her, that tree is Marcell, and on Marcell’s other side is Beatrice. Moving down the line we have Lucy, Harold, Mochi…” You continued to name the different plants, introducing every single one that grew in your garden, until, at last, you came to a large tree that was teeming with plump red fruits. “…And this one, perhaps my eldest plant, is Pom the Pomegranate Tree.”

Bucky waited for you to finish your introductions before chuckling at you.

You raised your chin and eyed him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he promised, grinning broadly at you. “Just, you name your plants?”

You blinked. “Well, yeah.” You turned back to your tree and walked to its trunk. Placing your palm against the bark, you smiled fondly. “I didn’t have many friends starting out. No one really wanted to be friends with or be associated with the creepy goddess of the dead and Queen of the Underworld. I got down here day one, and there was no one else. I had millions of souls to deal with, and not a single god, nymph, naiad, or the likes who wanted to talk to me. My sisters were busy getting their own realms in order and my mother was still in hiding with the other titans. Hell, Cerberus hadn’t even been born yet. I was completely, totally, and utterly alone.” You laughed weakly. “Well, as I was building my palace—yes it was a palace at the time. Hey, don’t give me that look, I like the modern house much better now. Anyways, when I was building my palace, I came across this place. It was nothing but a flat ledge, but here, right at the edge, was a single tree with a single fruit on it: a pomegranate. And I thought to myself, ‘Hey, you know what, this is the only other living thing for miles. I’m gonna make it my friend.’ And I named her Pom. Whenever I had lulls in the day or the builders didn’t need me, I’d just come back here and talk with Pom.” You smiled fondly. “My garden, along with Cerberus, has been one of my only constants.”

“And you’re just sharing it with me?” 

You turned to him, an eyebrow cocked up in questioning.

He was looking at you incredulously, shocked that you would dare share something so personal with him.

If you were honest, you were a little shocked too; but there was just something about Bucky that made you trust him with even the most intimate sides of you. You smiled and nodded. “I am.”

With almost careful reluctance, he smiled back at you and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You turned your back to him and looked back at the tree. “Pomegranates are some of my favorites.”

“Mine too,” he agreed from behind you. “I love the fruit; it’s so delicious.”

“It is.” You smiled softly and turned over your shoulder to look at him. At once, the peaceful look on your face turned to one of horror and terror and you yelled at the top of your lungs, “No! Don’t!”

Bucky had picked a pomegranate from the tree and opened it when your back was turned. He’d already dug out some of the seeds and was lifting them up to his mouth when you turned around.

In a desperate panic, you lunged at him, plowing into his torso and shoving his hand away from his mouth.

He was not ready for the impact. He dropped the fruit and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you close, positioning your bodies so he would hit the ground instead of you. He landed with a heavy “oof.”

You fell down onto his chest and pushed yourself up so you were hovering over him. Your eyes frantically searched his face for red from the pomegranate seeds, especially around his mouth. To your immense relief, you found no trace.

You sighed in relief before anger started to bubble up in your throat. “Are you fucking crazy?” you demanded. 

He stared up at you, startled into silence. The only word he was able to utter was, “What?”

“What? Are you kidding me? You. Do. Not. Eat. Food. In. The Underworld! You’ll condemn yourself here for all eternity, you idiot!” Your voice broke in the last syllables and you stared down at him desperately.

You wouldn’t let him get trapped down here. Sure, you enjoyed his company, but you also didn’t want him to be limited. You were bound here by responsibility and necessity; he was still free to roam. He was still young, inexperienced, and new; he could not be trapped down here so early in his life before he’d even gotten a chance to live.

He stared up at you, the pomegranate having rolled away from his open fingers. His mouth was agape, his eyes wide, and he simply stared at you.

His gaze made you self conscious and you hung your head. Of course, it was only then that you realized your legs were straddling his hips and your hands were right beside his head as you hovered over him. Of all the positions you could have landed in, you had to land in this one.

You were about ready to apologize when Bucky spoke.

“Y-You saved me?” He sounded a little scared, a little startled, and a lot grateful.

You hesitated before crawling off of him. “I don’t know if that’s the right way to put it. You would not have died had you eaten the fruit, but you would not have been able to leave here if you’d eaten even just a handful of seeds.” You shook your head. “It’s this weird stipulation of the Underworld’s, but it’s real. Anything that lives, unless they’re related to me by blood, and consumes food or drink here is doomed to stay here. Best not to have a meal while you’re visiting.” You sat cross-legged on the ground and smiled weakly at him.

He continued to stare at you, dumbstruck. 

You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable under his gaze. “Say something if you’re going to, but stop staring at me for god’s sake.”

“I… I just…” He shook his head. “Thank you, for saving me.”

“I didn’t save you,” you said again. “But you’re welcome.”

He smiled then, and you averted your gaze. 

“Whatever.” You rose to your feet and offered your hand to him. “Come on, Springy. Let’s get you out of the garden before you cause any more trouble. We can probably go play with Cerberus or something.” 

He took your hand and allowed you to pull him up. 

Keeping hold of his hand, you led him out of the garden and up the back where a staircase took you back to the main house. You had nothing but intentions of hanging out with him for a bit longer, maybe playing a round or two of fetch with Cerberus who was undoubtedly napping on your couch, but, as with all things, something had to get in the way of your agenda.

Bucky skid to a stop right outside your door, his grip on your hand halting you too. “What the Hades is that?”

You looked up to where he was staring in fear and right about flipped it off.

In the distance, a large, winged figure flew towards your mansion, their black suit flapping in the wind as their wings moved in sync to beat the air beneath them.

You only groaned and let your head fall forward. “That is my lieutenant. Alexander Pierce, the god of death.” You sighed heavily. “I probably have to deal with him now, as god-awful as that sounds.” Pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, you looked at Bucky with a sad grin. “I trust you know the way out by now.”

He simply smiled. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And you promise to go home this time? No detours? We don’t need another ruby incident.”

He barked a bitter laugh. “You’re never going to let me live that down, now are you, Doll?”

“Nope,” you said popping the “p”.

“Hah. Fine. Well, I’ll get going then, so you can deal with your employee.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He nodded and gave your hand a squeeze, bringing it up to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. At your shocked expression and undoubtedly red cheeks, he chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry. My mother taught me to be a gentleman to a beautiful dame.”

“I-It’s alright…”

He let your hand go and took a step backward. “Until next time, then?”

You nodded. “Yeah, until then.”

He grinned at you. “Alright. I’ll be going then, just, do me a favor? Don’t be a stranger. Call me anytime you need.”

Nibbling at your lip, you bobbed your head ever so slightly. “I will. I’ll see you later.”

He waved at you and turned around, walking down the side of the mountain. 

It was no sooner had he left than did a figure land on your front porch. His black wings, only greying with age, spread out in a flourish as he fell in a crouch.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you waited for him to stand.

He did so, his wings retracting into his back as he stood. He stared at you with beady blue eyes, narrowed as always, and ran his fingers through his greying strawberry blonde hair. He bowed before you, murmuring a respectful “Your majesty” as his greeting. 

You smiled at him, standing up straighter as you assumed your regal stance. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Alexander Pierce, my favorite god of death.”

“I am your only god of death.” He smirked up at you, playing into your banter.

“Fair. Anyways, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I am here to give you my update on the soul intake.” He gestured to your door. “Mind if we move this inside?”

“Not at all. I always prefer to talk numbers in my chair anyways.” You stood to the side, allowing him passage into your home. As he walked in past you, you hesitated and looked down the mountain. If you squinted hard enough, you could still see Bucky’s figure in the distance. Catching sight at that mop of brown hair, your heart fluttered a bit as it yearned for him. But you simply shook your head, clearing all thoughts of him. It was not time to hope, but time to be practical. You had a job to do.


	9. He Gets Found Out (and a Phone Call)

Bucky was rudely awoken by something grainy and bulky hitting his nose and an angry voice demanding, “What the fuck are these?”

He reached up and wrapped his fingers around the object, his skin coming in contact with smooth, familiar leather. His stomach dropped and he opened his eyes to see the pouch of seeds (y/n) had given him and Sam and Steve glowering down at him, rage emitting off both their bodies. He didn’t even know what to say.

Steve’s glare was the most intense. “Those seeds, they’re not of the Mortal World, and they’re not from Olympus. There are six seeds in here. You’ve been going down to the Underworld, haven’t you?” 

Bucky stared at the seeds, his heart gripped with terror. He didn’t know if they knew how many seeds had been in the pouch before or if they’d known that he’d been down there six times over the last three months since he’d gotten them but at this point, it didn’t matter. They knew he had them. Bucky opened his mouth but his words would not obey him.

“_Haven’t you_?” Steve demanded.

_Shit._

“Alright,” Bucky cried. “Yes, I’ve been going down there. But you don’t understand, I—”

Sam laughed bitterly. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. After all we’ve been through, man? We were sworn to protect you and to obey your mother’s one rule: never ever deal with the Underworld. And what do you do? You do it anyways! Do you realize how that makes Steve and me look? What if your mother came back while you were on one of your little excursions and we had no idea where you were? We’re supposed to know your location at all times; she’d kill us if we lost you. And if we lost you to the Underworld? Buck, this is serious!”

Bucky hung his head. He knew it was serious and he felt incredibly guilty for putting his best friends in the position they were in now, but he couldn’t make himself regret it one bit.

Steve’s eyes cut daggers coated with disappointment through Bucky’s skull. “Your mother has one absolute rule, Buck, and that is the only rule you decide to break. And then you don’t even tell us.” His voice broke and he huffed a sigh. “We probably would have supported you, man; you just had to tell us what was going on. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s happening.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered. “I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you guys, but I just…” He shook his head. “When I went down there the first time, there was just… It was amazing. It felt more like a home than any field has ever been. You guys are going to think that I’m insane, but there’s just something about the place that makes me feel good. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know if I’ll ever know, but it’s amazing.” Bucky looked up at his friends, apologies unspoken filling his eyes but accompanied by a resolute firmness that was unshakable. “And I’m going to keep on going down there.”

“Bucky, I—”

“No, Steve. I’m sorry, but I refuse to stop going down there. You guys can try to keep me here all you want, but I’m going to find ways around you. I refuse to leave (y/n) and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

Sam frowned in confusion, his brows furrowing and his head moving backward as he looked down at his friend. “(y/n)? Who the hell is (y/n)?”

Bucky felt his ears redden and he bowed his head. “She’s… um…”

“Never mind her right now,” Steve said, waving them off. “Bucky, look at us.”

Bucky obeyed.

Steve smiled at him sympathetically, his eyes turning kind. “Look, Sam and I have already talked about this. We’ve known you’ve been going down there for a while, now—you reek of death every time you come back. We aren’t mad that you go down there and we aren’t going to stop you. We’re mad because you didn’t trust us enough to tell us so.”

Bucky looked at his friend, awe encompassing his face. “You’re serious? You’re not going to stop me?”

“Hades no. You’re a grown man, you can make your own decisions. We just need to know when you’re going so that way, if your mother comes looking for you, we can make you an alibi and she won’t get suspicious. But we need you to tell us because she might actually smite us if we lost you.”

Sam cleared his throat, the idea of an angry Winnifred leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Seriously, so long as you take a shower after you get back so you don’t reek and you don’t bring us back any souvenirs, we don’t care if you go down there. We care if it starts to get us in trouble and when we’re left in the dark.”

Bucky stared up at his best friends, completely astonished. “R-Really?”

“Yes. Keep going all you want, just give us a heads up.”

He couldn’t believe that they were okay with this. He’d been so afraid of being found out by them, but he’d never really had anything to fear. His face split into the widest grin ever. Clutching the bag of Asphodel seeds close to his chest, he smiled at his friends. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Buck,” Steve said sitting next to his friend. “Remember, we’re with you ‘til the end of the line and we’ll always be here to support you, no matter what stupid things you decide to do.”

Bucky laughed, but wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulder pulling him in for a half-hug. “You’re the best; the both of you.”

Sam sat down next to him as well and smirked. “Oh, we know. Now, who’s (y/n)? Is she some spirit you found down there and fell in love with?”

Bucky’s ears reddened. “Well, not exactly.”

“Some spirit you befriended?”

“N-No, she’s—”

“And, what about Harriet?” Steve asked, his eyebrows shooting up as he scooted closer, eager to hear the story. “I thought she was the one you were sneaking off to see?”

“Will you two let me explain? Gods, you’d swear I was mute.” Bucky rolled his eyes and huffed like a child. 

Steve and Sam snapped their jaws shut and looked at him expectantly.

Bucky took a deep breath before starting. “Harriet does not exist. I made her up.”

“But I thought you just _couldn’t get her out of your mind_,” Steve said, his voice jumping an octave in a poor imitation of Bucky.

“There’s a different girl I can’t get out of my mind.”

“This ‘(y/n)?’”

Bucky nodded. 

Sam nodded. “So, who is she?”

This is where Bucky started to get nervous. How was he going to tell them that the girl who he thought about was the Queen of the Underworld? “Well… Um… You guys have actually met her before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying so hard to figure out how to tell them who (y/n) was without them flipping their shit. “She’s… Er… She’s got unusual eyes, and you met her once… When she threw me out.”

“When she—” Sam’s eyes blew wide. “You’ve gotta be shitting me! (y/n) is _Hades_?”

Steve shared the same flabbergasted expression as his friend but he said nothing.

Bucky, however, was quick to her defense. “Guys, she’s not as bad as you think. She’s kind, she’s smart, she’s human. She’s probably the most amazing person I’ve ever met, immortal or otherwise. Sure, she’s cold and strict when you first meet her, but over these past few months I’ve learned a lot about her. She’s funny, she’s sarcastic, she’s complicated. There’s a lot that makes her her. And I think she gets a bad reputation because of where she lives and what she rules over. But she does her job well and is fair, kind, and just. (y/n) is amazing, and I don’t want you to think otherwise. I refuse to stop seeing her.”

Both his friends went silent for a bit, letting it sink in that their friend was mixed in with way more powerful beings than either of them had expected.

Bucky awaited their response anxiously, his confidence from defending her slowly crumbling away. He was scared. Although they were okay with letting him go down to the Underworld, they might have been less okay with him fraternizing with a goddess like her.

Time passed. It felt like hours, but it was only seconds.

Steve was the first to break the silence with a heavy sigh. Raising his head, he eyed his friend anxiously and asked, “So you’re fonduing with the goddess of the dead?”

Bucky choked. That was not the response he’d been expecting. “I’m what?”

“Fonduing. You know,” he gestured vaguely. “Is she your girlfriend? Are you guys doing the ‘do?’”

Sam barked with laughter. “Oh, my gods, Steve! Of course they aren’t!” Then, as if to confirm his allegations, he leaned towards Bucky and whispered, “You aren’t, right?”

“No! Oh my gods, (y/n) and I are just friends. We literally just got to friends. She kicked me out like five times before I even got to the friend status. I’m not going to screw that up.” Bucky smiled then when he thought about (y/n)—her reluctant smiles and her teasing nature. He was glad that he had befriended her.

Steve chuckled. “She sounds like she can carry her weight,” he mused. “Look, Buck, I’m still not crazy about you hanging around Hades, but I know I can’t stop you. So, just promise me you’ll be safe?”

“Always.” Bucky smiled and pocketed the leather bag of seeds. He was happy to have his friends’ support, and it was comforting to know that they wouldn’t stop him.

———

That night, Bucky lay in his meadow under the stars, staring up at the stars. Sam and Steve were already asleep, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts.

Naturally those thoughts traveled to (y/n).

He wondered how she was doing right now. Was it nighttime in the Underworld? Was she asleep, or was she awake too? What could she be thinking about? Could she be thinking of him?

Bucky sighed heavily and turned onto his side. Why couldn’t he get her out of his head? Why did she occupy almost all of his waking hours? 

_Because you care for her, and you just don’t know it._

Bucky wondered if that was even possible—to care so deeply about someone he knew so little about. Hell, he’d only known her for a short amount of time, but he knew that there was little he wouldn’t do for her. The Queen of the Underworld had him wrapped around her little finger and he was fine with it.

He wanted her to be happy, he wanted her to be safe, he wanted her to love and be loved.

He wondered if there was a special someone in her life, someone who could treat her like the queen she was. He hoped there was. He wanted her to experience that kind of happiness in life.

…Even if it meant it wasn’t with him.

For some reason, his heart ached at the thought of her with another. It felt like a knife was being driven through his chest and salt was being poured on the wound. It hurt him more than he expected, and so he decided to turn his thoughts away from the negative and focus on the positive.

He could see her whenever he wanted now with the seeds. And she was warming up to him! She’d told him he could go down the last time, maybe she’d invite him down the next time.

And then… Maybe he could invite her up here. He got the feeling that (y/n) rarely ever left her realm; maybe he could change that. She deserved a night on the town and Bucky would’ve been more than happy to show her around his favorite spots in the world.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he turned onto his side. The grass tickled his face and he closed his eyes as he sank into the peace. Maybe he could just go to sleep and call it all good.

But the silence surrounding him was broken by the sound of his phone ringing loudly in his pocket. It demanded his attention, screaming for him, calling him, begging to be seen. 

Bucky groaned loudly as he dug into the pockets of his pajama pants. Fishing his phone from there, he peered at the ridiculously bright screen. 

(y/n)’s caller ID was flashing on the screen, signaling that she was calling him. 

Bucky frowned, but answered the call anyway. “Hello?” he asked, his voice heavy with the sleep that never was.

The line was silent for a few seconds.

“Hello?” he called again, trying to get a response. His heart filled with worry. Why wasn’t she answering him?

“B-Bucky?”

He sat up straighter, suddenly wide awake.

She was scared; he could hear it in her voice. His protective instincts started to kick in and he clutched the phone tighter. “(y/n)? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Her voice trembled as she struggled to say, “I-I…” She couldn’t seem to even form a sentence as she stuttered.

“It’s alright, Doll. I’m here now. Use your words. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“I… I need you.”

Her voice was broken, but Bucky was up on his feet and moving towards a vacant corner of the meadow. Jeans and a button-up shirt that matched his eyes materialized over his pajamas and he pulled her bag of seeds out of his pocket. “I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up the phone, fishing out a seed and throwing it on the ground. A hole immediately opened up and he jumped in, falling down down _down_ to the Underworld.


	10. The Past Comes Back to Haunt Her

_The sky was blue and clear, not a single cloud in sight. The summer sun beat down on your back as you leaned over your work in the middle of the clearing. Your hands moved fast, your tongue was held in between your teeth as you concentrated, your brows knit together, and you focused. The world, the clearing, and the trees surrounding you melted away as you worked. Only your project mattered._

_You spun something out of nothing, twirling your tiny, childish hands around the small, abnormally shaped ball that hovered midair. Red flowed from your palms, gravitating towards the center of your creation, and it stuck wherever it landed. It solidified as it hit the surface, adding to the shiny jewel that was forming in your hands. The gem was see-through, completely clear, but a satisfying shade of red that you loved. A small smile danced across your lips. Your mother was going to love this._

_When it was finally the size of a small pebble, you stopped revolving your hands around your creation and instead brought them together in a cup beneath it. The red object fell through the air, landing in your palm._

_You beamed down at it before standing, hiking up the skirt of your white chiton, and running over to the woman who was seated on a large rock at the edge of the clearing and was watching you with an amused gaze._

_She was beautiful, perfect, the very definition of grace. Her rich dark hair was braided with gold and jewels (most of which you had created for her) and cascaded down her shoulder, coming to rest right above her heart. A gold chiton hung loosely from the titaness’ shoulders, covering her body while leaving her arms, shoulders, and collar bones out for the sun to kiss. _

_You scampered over to her as fast as your little legs would take you, holding the red stone out in front of you. “Mama!” you cried, your young voice filling the air. “Mama, look! I made another one.” You stopped at her feet and held it up._

_Rhea smiled down at you and took the jewel from you. “So lovely, my darling,” she mused, holding it up to the light and gazing through it. The sun streamed through the jewel, casting a pink glow on her tanned skin. Her smile widened. “Wow! It’s clear all the way through.”_

_“I think it’s prettier like that, don’t you? It makes your face change colors!”_

_“So it does.” She closed her fingers around the jewel and pulled her braid closer to her. Her fingers worked to tuck it into the braid with the others. “Thank you, little one. It is beautiful.”_

_You bit your lip to hide your smile and sat cross-legged at her feet. “You’re welcome, Mama.” _

_Her eyes trailed over the stones her dark braid. Most of them were red. “You seem to like making the red ones the most. They match your eyes.” She chuckled softly and turned her gaze to you. “Do you have a name for your creations?”_

_You nodded, a smile brightening your face. “I think I wanna call them rubies. I dunno why, it’s just a nice name for the red ones.”_

_Your mother hummed. “Well, be absolutely sure that that is what you want to call them. Once you give them their name, that will always be their name. They are your creation and what you say goes.”_

_You frowned up at her, your gaze curious and confused. “What do you mean, Mama; ‘what I say goes?’”_

_She grinned slyly like she knew something you didn’t—which she probably did. “Come with me, my child, and I shall show you.” She reached down and took your tiny hand in hers._

_You stood up and walked with her._

_She led you through the trees, stepping over fallen logs and helping you over them too. You didn’t know where she was taking you, but you didn’t care. You just loved spending time with your mother._

_She was the best mother there was, always there to love you and hug you and squeeze you tight. She loved you, and you loved her._

_Rhea guided you through the trees over to a new clearing, but this one wasn’t surrounded by trees. This one was a cliff that came to a point. She took you right up to the edge._

_From up there, you could see a vast majority of the land that you lived in. You could see rolling hills taking over the whole area, with small dots nestled in the valleys and near the sea. Each dot was a village that held many people. You’d often sneak down to watch them_

_Your mother stopped you at the edge of the cliff and sat down, beckoning you to sit on her lap. “What do you see, my dear?” _

_You sat down on her thigh and leaned back into her chest. “I see people. It’s the Mortal World, right?”_

_“Yes. This is the land known as Sicily. And who lives there?”_

_“The mortals.”_

_“Very good. Now, you know that you are not a mortal. You’re an immortal, what the humans would call a god, or, in your case, a goddess.”_

_You turned your eyes up to her, sparkling with curiosity. “Are you a goddess, Mama?”_

_She laughed. “No. I am a titaness. I am older than the gods, but that’s not important.” She plucked one ruby from her hair and offered it to you. “Because you are a goddess, you get to control some aspects of the world. You are a goddess of wealth, and so these jewels that you create will be worth a lot. The names you give them will be used by mortals everywhere because they are yours. It is one of your powers, and more will develop as you grow older. It is a great responsibility to bear.”_

_You frowned. “But I’m just a kid.”_

_“You may have only aged seven years, my child, but you are still their god nonetheless, and they will worship you just the same.” She chuckled. “I know you will be a great goddess. You will go down in their stories as one of the greatest in history.”_

_You giggled. “I hope so, Mama. I wanna be a good goddess. Do you think the mortals will like me?”_

_“It is hard to tell, my child. But so long as you stay just, benevolent, and fair, I’m sure they will.”_

_You opened your mouth to ask her something else, but you were stopped by a loud crash and the earth shaking. You shrieked as you fell off your mother’s lap, sprawling on the ground._

_Your mother blanched and shot to her feet, staring at something in the distance. “(y/n), hide.”_

_“Mama, what—?”_

_“Go!” She grabbed you by your wrist and threw you towards the tree._

_You obeyed, running into the trees to hide beneath one. Looking back out at the clearing, you saw your mother grow larger, her height soaring until she was giant. So tall, was the titan’s true form, that she towered above everything else, even mountains. When your mother was at her full height, you hardly came up to her big toe. She rarely used this form with you (unless you wanted to say hi to the birds) because you hated feeling small and insignificant. You’d only seen this form once or twice, and only when he came around. _

_You turned your head over your shoulder, almost too scared to look._

_You could see him. He was always in his full size. You saw his monstrous form towering over everything, but you couldn’t make out any distinct features. He was all black. He marched towards your hiding spot and your mother, undoubtedly glaring._

_“Kronos,” your mother purred, trying to mask the fear in her voice with seduction. “To what do I owe this pleasure, my darling husband?”_

_“You know why I’m here.” His deep voice thundered over the valley, startling birds out of their nests. “I want her.”_

_“Wh-Who?”_

_You frowned at the time, filled with confusion. You knew she knew he was talking about you, but you would later realize that she was trying to protect you._

_“Our daughter,” he hissed. “She has been allowed to roam the earth too long. She should’ve been dealt with right after she was born. Instead I was soft and allowed you some time. Now I have come to collect. Give her to me.”_

_Your mother bit her lip and shook her head. “No! I can’t. She’s just a child.”_

_“A child who will destroy us.” His face was black, not a single feature was visible, but you could’ve sworn that his eyes flashed red. “Now give her to me! I know you have hidden her near. You never stray too far away from your precious child.” His head turned down, and you knew he was searching for you. His eyes pierced the very trees before you felt them settle on you. You could hear the smile in his voice as he cooed, “Found you.” _

_A black hand appeared out of nowhere, plucking you from your hiding spot by the back of your chiton. _

_You screamed as the ground disappeared from beneath your feet, twisting and turning in a struggle. All you could cry out was, “Father! No! Please, no!”_

_“Kronos! Let her go! She’s just a child!” your mother wailed, suddenly at his side and clinging onto her husband’s arm as she tried to wrench you from his grip. You could see the fear for your life in her eyes._

_He sneered down at her, his eyes turning red with agitation. “She won’t be a child for long. I must contain her while I can.” Then, with a swift motion, he yanked his arm out of Rhea’s grasp, causing her to fall to the ground, and opened his mouth, bringing you closer and closer to his lips._

_With a sickening drop of your stomach, you knew—in your young, tiny heart—you knew what he was about to do. You screamed as you panicked. “Father, please! I don’t wanna go in there! I’ll be good! I’ll be a good girl! Just please don’t.”_

_His mouth didn’t move, but you could hear his voice clear as day in your head. “I’m sorry, little one. But I have no choice. I cannot kill you, so I must contain you.”_

_You continued to approach his mouth and you were starting to grow frantic. “Father! Please! Don’t!” Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you struggled and writhed, but your efforts were fruitless. He didn’t stop. “Father!” you tried again, begging him to spare you. “I’ll be good! I’ll be a good god! Just, please! Father! _Dad! Daddy, please!”

_But he only brought you closer to his mouth until you were hovering right over the opening. And, before you knew it, you were falling. He had dropped you and the wind was soaring past your ears. The fleshy pink of his gullet encompassed your vision, covering more and more of what you could see until there was no light left. As you plunged into the darkness, you could hear only two things: the sounds of your mother’s wailing, and your own screams of pure terror as you fell down, down, down—into the pit of your father’s stomach._

———

“NO!”

You sat bolt upright in your bed, the sheets clinging to your body with a cold sweat. Your chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow panting and your panicked eyes darted all around you. It was black, just as black as your prison.

“_Light_!” you summoned, holding out your hand. A scarlet fire erupted over your palm, casting a dim glow over the room. You waved your hand all over, shining light on the furniture that made up your bedroom. It took you a good moment to realize that you were at your own home rather than in your father’s stomach, and when the realization finally settled on you, you were only slightly less panicked than you had been. 

Releasing the ball of red fire to drift around the room, you threw the covers off of your body and began to pace the hardwood floors. Your sports bra and sleep shorts were damp with your own sweat, and the night air hitting your skin made you shiver, but you didn’t care. Your mind was elsewhere.

_He’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s in Tartarus. He’s locked up. You’re safe_.

But you didn’t believe the thoughts one bit.

You still felt like you were falling. You could still feel the wind rushing past you. You could still hear the screams—your screams.

Your chest grew tight, like a hand was crushing your heart. You winced at the pain, trying to push it deep down.

You shoved your fingers through your hair, taking a fistful and tugging. The dull pain usually helped you focus in on reality, but this time it seemed to do nothing. You were still trembling, and you had no hope of calming down on your own. 

You needed something alive. Cerberus was out of the question because he was on his shift guarding the borders. Peggy was also out because she was there too. You needed someone else; someone to talk you down, someone to tell you what your mind was already saying.

Brock, of course, was the first person you immediately thought of, but upon further deliberation, he probably wasn’t the best choice. He didn’t like it when you were too emotional. He was always awkward and stiff around you when you tried to talk to him about your past or about your nightmares. He hated it. 

You pulled harder at your hair, the squeezing in your chest only tightening and crushing your heart. 

You needed someone who could listen and make you feel better. You needed someone who could be trusted with the more sensitive side of you. You needed—

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your head turned slowly towards your phone, which was sitting dark on your nightstand. You had his number, he’d said that you could call him anytime you needed. Well, if there was ever a time you needed him, it was now.

Your feet were moving before you knew it, and you were unlocking your phone and pulling up Bucky’s contact just as quick. You pressed “call” and held the phone up to your ear.

As you heard the dial tone, you had to wonder: was Bucky even still up? Were you disturbing his sleep or was he still awake? Would he be bothered—

“Hello?”

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts and your jaw went slack. Holy shit, he’d actually answered. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck; what the fuck do you say? “Hey, Buck. It’s (y/n). You know, the scary Queen of the Underworld? Yeah, listen. I just had a nightmare and I’m acting like a toddler and need you to calm me down.” That was laughable and pathetic. This whole situation was pathetic. You should’ve just hung up and called it a night, but your heart wouldn’t let you.

“Hello?” he called again, his voice teeming with worry.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and whispered, “B-Bucky?”

You could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. “(y/n)? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He was definitely concerned now, and—although you felt bad for making him worry—it was comforting to know he cared.

You shoved your hand through your hair again and squeezed your eyes shut as you sat down on your bed. You could still see the faint red of the fire floating around behind your eyelids, but it was little comfort. Your voice trembled as you stuttered, “I-I…” You mentally cursed yourself. You couldn’t even form a damn sentence in your frazzled state.

“It’s alright, Doll. I’m here now,” Bucky soothed, trying to coax you into speaking. “Use your words. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“I… I need you.” Admitting your need was crushing and you could feel your muscles stiffening as the severity of the fear inflicted by the nightmare finally dawned on you. It felt like your whole body was atrophying like you were turning to stone. Within moments, you would be frozen in place as the panic truly set in.

“I’m on my way.” The line went dead as he hung up, plunging you back into the silence of your mind. 

You couldn’t tell if it was better or worse to be in the quiet room, but the only real comfort you had was that Bucky was coming.

And, sure enough, you heard rumbling overhead—the telltale sign that signaled the ceiling of the chasm opening up above you. A loud thud resonated outside your house; something heavy had just fallen into the Asphodel Meadows. You were so frozen on your bed that you couldn’t even make yourself stand up to go to the window to see if it was him. You could hear footsteps running across the fields, growing closer until they were right outside your door. From there, the front door opened and you could hear footsteps bounding into the entryway before coming to a stop. It only then dawned on you that Bucky had never been in your home and that he probably wouldn’t know where your room was. You wanted to yell for him, scream his name, _something_, but your voice was locked in a cage at the base of your throat. You wanted to stomp on the ground, jump up and down, to do anything, but you were stone. You could not move.

The footsteps began to move again downstairs and you heard him shuffling around.

_Find the staircase, Bucky._

You prayed to any higher being there was that he would find you, you needed him so badly. 

_Please, Buck. It’s right by the door. I know it’s dark, but you can find it. Right up the stairs. My room is the whole floor. Please. Please hurry._

As if listening to your silent directions, the footsteps neared the staircase and began to mount them. You could tell he was on his way up because you heard the creak of the fifth step up. No matter where you stepped, it always creaked. The thudding grew louder as he grew closer until he finally reached the door. That too creaked open as he moved it ever so slightly, and he called out in a quiet, careful voice, “(y/n)?”

You would’ve sobbed with relief if you could but the lump in your throat was still preventing you from speaking.

He began to enter the room, rounding the wall that separated your sleeping area from the rest of your chambers. When he saw you, he called your name again. Receiving no answer, he began to approach you as one would an easily startled animal.

Which, if you were honest, you probably were at that moment.

He continued to walk towards you until he was right at your side. “(y/n)?” he said again, his voice gentle, comforting, loving. He sat down next to you and the mattress dipped with his weight. “(y/n), I’m here. It’s me. Bucky. I’m here. It’s okay; you’re safe now.” He hesitantly reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder.

You flinched at the unexpected contact and your head snapped to the side to look at him, your eyes undoubtedly wild with the fear from the nightmare.

He didn’t jump at your sudden moment but the worry in his eyes only increased. 

You scanned his face, taking in every detail. It helped to ground you. His blue eyes seemed purple from the rouge light floating in the room and his skin had turned ghostly. His features were contorted with worry, confusion, and care. He cared about you, wanting to make sure you were okay. He’d dropped whatever he was doing just so he could rush to your side and make sure you were safe. It was the most that anyone had done for you in a long time.

You didn’t realize tears were streaming down your face until Bucky’s large hand cupped your cheek and his thumb wiped the liquid off your skin.

“It’s okay,” he murmured as his thumb traced small circles over your cheek. “It’s alright, I’m here now.”

At that, you broke.

Tears began rolling down your cheeks in an abundance, the torrent never ceasing. You sobbed, and you sobbed, and you sobbed. Silent screams escaped your mouth as you cried into Bucky’s shirt. Your tears soaked his shirt, but you didn’t care. The crying was relieving; you couldn’t remember the last time you just let it all out like this.

Bucky simply held you. His arms had wrapped around you at some point, and he pulled you close into a hug. You were sitting in his lap, his arms were holding you close, and his chin was resting on the top of your head. He was rocking you from side to side as a mother would her child, doing his best to comfort you.

You were surprised at how well it was working. Normally, it would take you hours to calm down, but, with Bucky—with whom you’d only spent a handful of blissful evenings—it was mere minutes. 

Soon you were just sitting there, sniffling in his arms.

He pet your hair and continued to rock you, mumbling, “Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You nodded your head, pulling away from him just enough to peer up at his face. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His eyes narrowed at you and his head cocked to the side. “What for?”

“For bothering you.” You dragged the back of your hand across your nose. “And for crying all over you. You shouldn’t have seen me like that.”

“Like what?”

You couldn’t believe he was making you spell it out. “Like a mess. I’m a queen. I’m supposed to be calm and collected and I was sobbing like a baby.” You shook your head with a bitter laugh. “I’m pathetic.”

“No, you’re human.” Bucky brought his hand up under your chin and lifted your head so you were looking at him. “It’s normal to cry and feel sad. It’s normal to be scared. No one is immune to it, not even the badass Queen of the Underworld. Everyone is scared of something.” He tilted his head to the side, his lips quirking up into a gentle smile. “Don’t ever be afraid to be afraid around me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” He shifted so you were closer to him on his lap. 

Your head once more fit right under his chin. With your ear pressed to his chest, you could hear the faint beating of his heart and you couldn’t help but dwell on how nice this was. 

You never got this with Brock. Tender touches didn’t seem to be a part of his vocabulary. But, with Bucky, this felt natural and good. You felt safe in his arms and that was nice.

Bucky allowed you to sit in the silence a bit longer before finally asking, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You hesitated. “Mmm, kind of do, kind of don’t.”

“Which ‘kind of’ is winning?”

Your lips formed a tight line. “Kind of do,” you answered truthfully because you did want to talk about it. Your family had begged you to talk about it for years, insisting that it could help you cope. “It’s therapeutic,” your youngest sister had said. “Mortals do it all the time. Talking about your trauma helps reduce it.”

“I’m not traumatized,” you’d insisted.

But you both knew that was a lie; the nightmares were living proof that your childhood had impacted you in a big and not-so-good way.

Bucky glanced down at you, his own lips forming their own line. “I can listen if you want to talk it out. I’m good at that.”

You breathed a chuckle. “I bet you are.” Letting out a heavy sigh, you peeled yourself out of Bucky’s arms and moved so you were sitting cross-legged on your bed. “You might as well get comfortable; it’s a long-ass story.”

He hardly moved. “I’m ready.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “Alright.” Pausing to take a deep breath, you began with, “My childhood was fucked.”

He snorted.

“Hey, don’t laugh!” You crossed your arms and hunched over in a pout. “I’m trying to share something deeply personal here.”

“I know! I know! I’m sorry. Just, you were so blunt. I was expecting some sort of build up, but you just came out with that and I… I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I couldn’t help it.”

You tried your damnedest to fight the smile that was rising on your own lips, but you failed miserably and found yourself smiling with him. “Get yourself together, Buck. I’m serious here. My childhood definitely falls in one of the bottom three childhoods of all time. The… The myths got it mostly right, but they were always hazy on the details. They said that my father, Kronos, ate me right after I was born; they were wrong.” You lifted your eyes to the ball of red light that was still dancing around your room. “I was seven. Old enough to have some experience, old enough to know that I had parents and that I loved them, but not old enough to understand why my father didn’t love me back. My mother never let me around him; she said he was a bad man. I didn’t understand. How could someone I love be bad? My seven-year-old brain was just barely comprehending the fact that I was going to live forever, I had no ability to process just how bad my father was. 

“I knew that he was my father in the way that I knew my mother was my mother. I knew that he was someone important to me, and that I loved him and wanted to please him and make him proud. So, every day, I did my best to be a good kid, to be something he could be proud of. I thought that could make him love me.” You hung your head in shame. “But, no matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough. I didn’t understand why he ate me. I didn’t understand why he hated me so much as to try and kill me. I didn’t know what I did to deserve living in isolation for over a decade in his stomach. There is nothing quite like being totally on your own, Bucky; to not know what you did wrong but to be punished anyway. It does things to your mind and I…”

“You still dream about it, don’t you?” he asked softly. “That’s why you were so scared.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I relived the whole thing again. I’m a grown woman, with more than two thousand years of experience, and I still get spooked by nightmares.”

“Everyone is scared by something,” he murmured. “Your thing is what happened to you in your past.” 

“Yeah…” You took a deep breath and pulled your knees up to your chest. 

Bucky looked at you, his eyes scanning over your face. Suddenly he stood and rounded the bed to your side. “Come on; let’s go.”

You blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on!” He offered you his hand. “We’re going out. It’s the best remedy for a nightmare. You get to go around and do things and forget all about the bad dreams.” His smile was warm and filled with promise.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret but,” grinning down at you, he held his hand out further, “do you trust me?”

You stared at his outstretched hand, a small flame igniting inside your chest at the prospect of adventure, and you took it. “I do.”


	11. She Sees the World in a New Light

It’d been years since you’d actually gone out into the Mortal World and stayed for any amount of time. You used to make trips daily to reap your own souls before Pierce came to work for you and Clint agreed to help you out. But that was during the time of the Ancient Greeks and Romans; way before any of the modern technology came out.

Back then, people went to sleep right as the sun went down. They were quiet, reserved, timid, and shy. You were free to roam the streets of the villages, hardly a soul to join you. You’d enjoyed the silence of the Mortal World.

But now?

You couldn’t believe how much the world had changed.

The city was set ablaze with neon lights and lamps. You could hardly tell that it was nighttime anymore. People bustled around, talking to each other, talking on their phones, or not talking at all. Some walked with friends, others alone, but all were awake and lively. The colors from the street lights and glowing signs bounced off their skin, turning them different shades and making them ethereal and strange. You hadn’t seen anything like it in a long time.

Sure, Olympus had mimicked these mortal cities, but there was something unique about the Mortal World that Olympus simply didn’t have. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it was beautiful and comforting and it made you happy.

The atmosphere was warm despite the piles of snow on the ground. White fairy lights were strung from lamppost to lamppost. People talked with animated gestures, a smile on everyone’s face.

Sipping on your frappuccino, your eyes traveled from person to person, taking in their clothes, their hair, their facial expressions, everything. You were able to gauge what kind of a person they were within moments and garner a bit of insight into their life by mentally scrolling through the registry of souls and taking a peek at their file (that was the good thing about being the Queen of the Underworld—because every single soul was technically your subject, you were able to access every bit of their information).

A hand squeezing yours drew your attention away from the people, and you turned your eyes to the man beside you.

Bucky smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You enjoying yourself?”

Pulling your lips away from the rim of your drink, you nodded and smiled up at him. “I haven’t had a night like this in forever. I think I was in my early five hundreds the last time I got to roam the Mortal World. It’s changed so much.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Bucky took a sip of his latte and looked forward. “I’ve been coming here for decades, and every time I come, I find it astonishing.”

“Here? As in New York?”

“Heh, yeah.” He paused as he slowed to a stop at the corner of the sidewalk, a red stop hand commanding pedestrians to halt. “Steve and I love coming to Brooklyn. We practically grew up here. My mom spent a lot of time here before it got built on, tending crops and stuff. She moved away when the city sprang up, but I still love it here.” A happy sigh escaped his mouth. “It’s a beautiful city. I love coming here, especially in the winter.”

“Do you come here often?”

“At least once a week or so. I’m considered a regular at some shops.”

The stop hand turned into a walking man and you and Bucky followed the crowd across the sidewalk. Your voice quieted as you asked, “Isn’t that dangerous though? Won’t the mortals realize you never age and get suspicious?”

He shrugged. “Some might, but they hardly pay attention enough to realize that I still look the same as I did years ago. And the ones that call me out on it, well they deserve to know the truth.”

Your eyes bulged out of your head. “You _told_ them?”

He laughed. “Relax, (y/n). I don’t tell everyone, only some. I think I’ve maybe told five people the truth in my 1,385 years of existence, and most of them are elderly at that. In fact, you’ll be meeting one of them tonight.” His grin was sly as he tugged you across the street by the hand. “He runs a pastry shop I’ve been dying to take you to. His cinnamon rolls are the absolute best.”

You followed Bucky down the street, eyeing the path ahead warily. “So, he knows about you and what you… are?”

“Yeah. I told him a few years ago when he called me out on not aging.”

“So then he knows you’re the real ‘Persephone,’ as the mortals call you?”

He breathed a laugh. “Yes, he does. And the first words out his mouth were, ‘I knew you were a flower child,’ and the second ones were, ‘Wait, you’re not a lady.’ Gods, it was mortifying to try to explain to him that the myths were wrong and that I was, indeed, not a woman despite the feminine name given to me by the mortals.”

“So am I to assume that he knows about me too?”

Tilting his head from side to side, he pursed his lips in thought. “I think he probably knows you exist, but I’ve never had reason to tell him about Hades, the goddess of the Underworld. I didn’t think it was important or necessary until I befriended you. But I’ll introduce you tonight. He’s a cool guy, and I think you’ll like him.”

Gods, you hoped you would; but you hoped he’d like you more. Mortals were not very hospitable to the gods that resided in the Underworld and dealt with death. They were afraid of you and that made them abrasive, hostile even. The last time you told a mortal you were Hades, she blanched with fear and ordered you (the best she could with her trembling voice) out of her house.

Bucky led you through the city, down another block or two, and stopped outside an old fashioned pastry shop. The red and white awning had faded to a salmon above the store, but the gold lettering that read “Pop’s Pastries” on the window was still crisp and neat as if it had been painted on yesterday. Bright lights illuminated the shop from the inside, casting a glow over the endless display cases of pastries and cakes as well as an elderly man sitting behind the counter on a stool with a book in his hand and reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“Come on,” he said, tugging you in by the hand. A little bell over the door jingled as Bucky pushed the door open and passed through the threshold.

The old man behind the counter looked up, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well well well. Look who it is.” He fit a bookmark in between the pages of his novel and set it down so he could give his undivided attention to the pair of you. “If it isn’t my favorite celestial being. And who is this you’ve brought with you, Persephone?”

Bucky chuckled. “It’s Bucky, not Persephone, Arthur. We’ve been over this.”

“I know, but I don’t care.” Arthur’s eyes glistened with amusement. “Now answer my question: who’s the pretty lady. A goddess perhaps? She’s pretty enough for it.”

You giggled and shook your head. “I don’t know about pretty, but yes, I am a goddess.”

“Ah-ha! I knew it! Now, which one are you? No no, wait, let me guess.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed you, scrutinizing your entire figure. “You’re… Aphrodite.”

The laugh that tore through your threat was louder than you had intended and you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. “Oh gods. I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. But no, I am not Aphrodite. That name belongs to the lovely Pepper.”

“Artemis then.”

“Nope. That’s Wanda.”

He hesitated. “Hera?”

Your lips curled up in a grimace. “No, that’s my sister’s wife Maria.”

“Your sister’s wife… You mean your sister is Zeus?”

“Carol, actually. But yes, the mortals call her Zeus.”

“So then, if your sister is Zeus, then you’re…” You could see the gears turning in his head.

You smirked. “You’ve got a fifty-fifty shot at this, mister. If you get it wrong, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Alright… My guess is…” He sprinted and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. “Oh, lord; you’re wearing black. You are… Hades?”

A smile took over your lips. “Ding ding ding. We have a winner.” Bowing to him with an ounce of flounce, you said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am (y/n) Aidoneus, the unseen one, eldest daughter of the titans Kronos and Rhea, goddess of the dead and wealth, and Queen of the Underworld, at your service.”

Arthur whistled in appreciation. “Those are some pretty impressive titles, your majesty. I am honored to be in the presence of one of the big three. Just, one question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why you hanging around with a minor god like Bucky here?”

“You know, I’ve been asking myself that for weeks.”

“Hey!” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You love me and you know it.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, Springy.”

Arthur snickered, his voice ringing out through the otherwise empty shop. “Oh, to be young and in love. I swear you two act like an old married couple already.”

Your head snapped towards him and you lost even more color if that was even possible. “In what? No no. We’re not… I mean… No. We’re not a thing.”

“Oh, my mistake your highness,” Arthur said. “I only assumed that you were together cause Buck here has never brought anyone here unless they were special to him.”

“We’re just friends, Art,” Bucky said, holding up his hands. “Nothing more, nothing less. Believe me, I just barely got to be friends with her; she almost had my head the first couple times I broke in and she only just gave me the keys to the kingdom.”

“Ah, that is right. You were a little trespasser up until a few months ago, right?”

“Mhmm. He was.” You shot Bucky a glare. “However, I have learned to tolerate his presence in my kingdom. There are still places he’s not allowed to go, but he can come into my house so long as he has my permission first. Now.” You rolled your shoulders back and sauntered over to the display cases of baked goods. “Bucky tells me you have the best cinnamon rolls in the world and I’m curious to see if he’s right.”

Arthur popped off his stool and walked behind the cases, pulling a small plate out of seemingly nowhere. “I sure do. It’s an old family recipe, dating back to when the first cinnamon rolls were created in Sweden. I sell nothing but the best here.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Arthur pulled two cinnamon rolls from behind the case and set them on two small plates that were just the size for the pastries.

Mumbling your thanks, you took your plate over to one of the tables that stood in the vacant shop. You took your seat elegantly, sitting up straight with the posture that only royalty seemed to have. Ever so carefully, so as to not dirty your hands, you wrapped your fingers around the roll and lifted it up to your lips. As soon as the sugary icing touched your tongue, you were hooked. “Oh my gods, this is amazing!”

Arthur bowed his head. “Thank you, milady. I’m glad that they have your seal of approval.” He moved back over to his spot and plucked his book from the counter. “Well, I’ll leave you two youngins to it. I’ll be in the back reading. Holler if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, Arthur!” Bucky sat down at the table across from you and smirked. “So what did I tell you? Best cinnamon rolls in the world, am I right?”

You bobbed your head as you chewed. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right.” As you swallowed your bite, you dragged the back of your hand across your face to wipe away the crumbs that had undoubtedly made their home in the corners of your mouth. Smiling down at your roll, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied with your current situation, though a bit saddened. This place—as quaint and lovely as it was—felt like one you should be sharing with a lover. Naturally, the only lover you’ve ever had fell into your mind. You could just barely imagine the naiad sitting in the chair across from you, his brown eyes sparkling as you covered his nose with frosting. It would be the perfect date. You would’ve loved to have brought him here. A mellow sigh left your lips and you murmured, “Gods… Brock would love this.”

“Who’s Brock?”

You blinked. Holy fuck, had you really said that out loud? Welp, shit. Time to roll with this. You gulped. “He’s my… Uh…”

“Boyfriend?” Bucky’s voice was timid, cautious, perhaps a bit scared. He spoke the word like it was bitter on his tongue.

You breathed a laugh. “No. I don’t know what he is to me.” Your lips formed a thin line as you averted your gaze.

His brows furrowed. “How do you mean? How can you not know?”

“Well, our relationship… It’s _complicated_, you know? Like, we obviously have some sort of feelings for each other. He’s been there for me for centuries and he’s loved me for that long too. But it… It doesn’t feel like love exactly. I don’t know what it is.”

Bucky’s lips pursed, but he let you speak.

And you spoke. You told him about how Brock was the only one who treated you like a queen and goddess in the beginning, going so far as to pledge his undying fidelity to you and vow to serve you with his life. You hesitated as you started to get into your relationship with him, talking about the late nights you spent together with only the vaguest detail. You didn’t know why, but it felt wrong talking about it in front of Bucky, and you were almost ashamed of it. No, scratch that, you were ashamed of it. You felt like it was almost betraying him to admit what you and Brock had done in the dark. But, swallowing the lump in your throat, you continued with your pathetic tale, telling him about how in recent centuries, Brock hardly ever came around anymore unless it was to satisfy his own desires. He never stayed for the morning after or to actually talk to you anymore and it left you confused and hurt.

Bucky listened with solemn interest, staying silent until you finished. He frowned, his brows pinching together and his lips turning down with an agitated air. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Always.”

He took a deep breath before starting bluntly with, “It sounds like he’s a dick.”

You snorted.

“No no no, hear me out! From what you’ve told me, this asshole is using you and doesn’t seem to care about your feelings. All he wants you for is someone who will give him what he wants and someone whom he can just take and take from.” He shook his head with a growl that surprised you. You’d never seen the god of spring so… angry and dark. “He sounds like a dick who only cares about himself and he’s hurting you in the process. He’s using you and it’s not right. Who does he think he is to abuse a literal goddess such as yourself. You don’t deserve that shit. You don’t deserve someone who will use you and leave you. You deserve the world. You deserve all the stars in the heavens. You deserve love—not that fake lust—true love. You deserve someone who will take care of your emotions and treat you with respect and adoration. You deserve someone who will stay with you through thick and thin, treating you as if you’re a precious gem. You deserve someone—”

“Someone like you?” The words were gentle as they escaped your mouth; hopeful, sincere, _begging_. They surprised you, but their implications that you wanted him surprised you more. How could you imply that? You hadn’t even known each other for a year yet, and you were insinuating that he wanted a romantic relationship with you and you wanted one with him. What the fuck were you thinking?

How could you think such? You didn’t know him. He didn’t know you. He was just a friend and hardly even that. He’d only been down to your domain a handful of times.

But then again…

Each time had been more blissful and lovely than the last. Sitting with him in the garden… Strolling through Elysium… Picking flowers in the Meadow… Each time he visited drew you closer and closer to his light until you considered him close to your heart.

He turned to you, his astounding blue eyes looking at you with an ounce of surprise and, for a second, you feared you overstepped. But then his gaze turned kind and he smiled a smile so kind, so genuine, and so real that you lost your breath for a second. And he reached for your hands—both of them—and took them in his. His hands dwarfed yours, but they fit together perfectly. Holding one, he brought the other up to cup his face, to hold his cheek. He turned into you and pressed his lips against the palm of your hand.

You could feel his breath ghosting over your skin and it sent shivers down your spine in the best way.

And then his lips moved, and even the slightest twitch was enough to take over your senses. “If you’d have me,” he said softly, his voice just barely above a whisper. He turned away from your hand to gaze into your eyes. “I know I’m a young god—naive, stupid, innocent to the world—but I also know my feelings. And I do have feelings for you, (y/n). I know that we don’t know each other the best, but that’s the great thing about immortality, right? I have all of eternity to get to know you.”

You gaped at him, your mind on red alert as the meaning of his words kicked in. He wanted a relationship with you. Suddenly, your thoughts went on autopilot.

_This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong._

He was less than half your age. He was a young god. You didn’t know him. He didn’t know you. He doesn’t know what he wants.

_This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong._

What were you thinking? You’d just met him. You couldn’t possibly be interested in pursuing a relationship. You would be insane. You couldn’t take advantage of him like this, no matter how badly your subconscious wanted him. And even then, he was the god of spring, of life, and you were the goddess of the dead and Queen of the Underworld. There was no way that those two things mixed. How could they? They were polar opposites.

_This is wrong. This is wrong. This is…_

But what if it wasn’t? What if he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him? What if he wanted to know you like you wanted to know him? What if?

_This feels right. This feels nice. This feels right._

Maybe there was a reason you felt safe and secure around him. Maybe there was a reason you called him instead of Brock when you had your nightmare. Maybe there was a reason he stayed in your mind, always lurking in the corners no matter the time of day.

_This feels right. This feels nice. This feels right._

Your eyes traced his face and your heart hammered in your chest. If you were being honest, you wouldn’t mind trying to pursue something with him. He was kind, sweet, and genuinely wanted to know you. That was more than any other man had been in years.

But there were other factors than just what you and he wanted. What about the age gap? You more than doubled him in age. And then there was also the fact that you were practically ostracised by most of the gods and immortals on Olympus. Would he join you in exile from the others if he associated himself with you? And then what about his mother? She despised you with a passion, and there was no way that she would approve of you two dating. And what about…

Brock…

There were just so many fucking factors to it, way too many for you to work out in one day. You might’ve been a goddess, but that didn’t mean you weren’t without responsibilities that had to come before your love life.

You hung your head, removing your eyes from his body. “Bucky, I just… I don’t know…” you whispered, your voice cracking with strain. “How could we work? How could the world let us work? There’s just so much that needs to be accounted for and I… I just don’t see how it’s possible.”

“So long as we try, so long as we both want it… Anything is possible, really—even us being together.” He gave you a lopsided smile. “The Fates would not have had us meet if it wasn’t.”

You barked a bitter laugh. “The Fates could not be so cruel as to interweave our futures, Bucky,” you said in a shallow whisper. “It’s a curse to be stuck with me.”

“See, you view it as a curse, but I would see it as the greatest blessing they could give me. To be so lucky as to spend all of eternity with you who cares so much about people and who gives so much of herself so selflessly is all that I can ask for. You are so much more than what you give yourself credit for, (y/n). Let me be there to remind you of your value.”

“But what about Brock?”

He sighed and tightened his grip on your hand. “You can let him go. You don’t need him. He’s abusing you, (y/n), I know you can see that too. Just let him go.”

“I… I just… I can’t let him go that easily, Buck.” You hung your head. “I think that, deep down, I know the words you speak are true, but I… He’s been there for me—_with_ me—for hundreds of years; I can’t just let him go. I know I should, but I can’t…” It was toxic, what you had with him; you knew that, but he had planted his weeds so deep in your heart that you could not tear them out so easily.

“What if I helped you?” he asked, his voice lifting an octave as he thought aloud. “I can be there for you, occupying your time so that way you wouldn’t have to see him. I have no obligations or responsibilities other than bringing Spring to the Mortal World once a year, and so I could be down there for you. No one says that you have to cut him from your life all at once; you can do it little by little and I will be there to help you every step of the way.” He bit his lip as he let go of your hand and reached up to hold your cheek.

You closed your eyes at his touch and leaned into him. His hands were worn and smooth and filled with warmth that filled you to your core.

“I can help you, (y/n), but you have to tell me you want this. I won’t make you decide one way or the other; this is your life, you’re in control. I am but a tool for you to use to help you along. You tell me what you want and I will help you make it happen. Okay?”

_What you want…_

You had virtually everything you could ever want: a kingdom, loving family, millions of subjects who respected you, power, wealth, good friends, the best dog ever, and security. But that wasn’t everything you wanted.

You wanted love. You’d never admitted it before, but you really wanted love. Not the stuff Brock gave you, but real love. If you remember correctly, the Greeks had given a name for the love you craved.

_Pragma_: long-lasting love.

You knew that you were never going to get that with Brock. You were chasing him down a one-way road that led to a dead end. There was no future of growth for you, no practicality whatsoever, only the same for years, decades, centuries to come. There was nothing more he could offer you, nothing he could give to you that you didn’t already have.

But with Bucky? Gods, there were so many options; he’d already proved to you time after time that he was invested in you and more than willing to stay with you. He’d risked getting flayed alive by his mother and his own safety just to get closer to you. With him, there was a chance that you could find what you wanted. No matter how minuscule the chance was, it was still there; a single thread hanging in the middle of the room that you were going to hold onto and climb until it either turned into rope or disappeared.

You had nothing to lose, so why not take a chance on him?


	12. She Takes a Stand

Bucky rarely left your place after that night. True to his word, he stayed by your side for the days and even some nights, only leaving to check in with his mother and friends. His whole goal of staying was to help you grow apart and branch away from Brock and it worked.

You hadn’t seen the man up close since his initial return all those weeks ago, and it was causing two emotions to rise in you: relief and anxiety. 

Oh, sweet relief! Having Bucky by your side chased away nearly all thoughts of Brock because Bucky was everything Brock was not. Where Brock was rough, Bucky was gentle. Where Brock was impatient, Bucky was overflowing with time to wait. Where Brock was selfish, Bucky was selfless. The difference between the two was clear as night and day, and while you had settled for the small bit of affection you could get from Brock’s presence, you embraced Bucky with open arms. 

Something had changed between the two of you since your trip to the Mortal World, and it was absolutely wonderful. Admitting that you had feelings for one another opened up realms of possibilities. Anything was possible for the two of you so long as you had time (which, being immortal, you had plenty of) and the willingness to try. Something beautiful sprang up between you. It was a “where there’s a will, there’s a way” kind of beautiful and it made you giddy—something you hadn’t been in decades.

But underlining all that excitement was a thin layer of anxiety, keeping the joy from completely piercing your heart. Brock was generating that layer, constantly lurking in your mind. He could pop up at any given time, just right out of the blue. He had the keys to your house, he knew all of your secret places, he had access to almost everything.

He seemed to be keeping his distance from you, but you refused to believe that he would just stay away. Brock was many things, but a coward who hid away was not one of them.

It was only a matter of time before he popped up again.

———

“I’m bored.” 

“And?”

“I want to do something.”

“And?”

Bucky sighed and pouted at you, obviously disgruntled. “And I want you to pay attention to me.”

You just barely glanced up at him from your document before turning back to the application at hand. “I have to work today, I told you.” It was the one day in the week you absolutely had to work. Paperwork had started to build up in the time you spent with Bucky in the month since your outing, and you’d neglected it until you couldn’t anymore. As much as you loathed it, it had to be done today or the pile would only keep getting bigger and bigger until it was taller than you. Besides, it was also _that_ day of the week. You’d warned Bucky of this day all week, constantly telling him, “You’re not going to want to come down then. I’m going to be working all day and I won’t have time for you.”

He’d said, “It doesn’t matter if you don’t have time for me. Just sitting in the same room as you will be enough.”

You bet that he was eating those words now as he sat upside down on the small couch in your office, his legs dangling over the backrest and his back being supported by the seat. His face was gold from all the ichor rushing to his head.

A pout covered his lips. “I know you did, doesn’t mean I listened though.”

You breathed a quick laugh. “Obviously.” Turning the page, you quickly scribbled your signature on the application for Elysium and set it aside to begin reading the next one. “Go and play with Cerberus if you’re that bored, but the more you bother me, the longer it takes me to get done.”

“Oh, come on, (y/n),” cooed another voice. “Don’t be like that.”

A smile threatened your lips, but you bit the lower one to keep it at bay. You looked up at Bucky and set down your pen. “Did you seriously call in the big guns?”

“He didn’t have to,” Peggy mused, an amused smile of her own playing at her lips. “I came in on my own.” She walked over to your desk and nudged some stuff out of the way before sitting down on the corner. 

You sat back in your chair and looked up at her. “And why are you here, Peg?”

“To get you out of here.” She leaned in close to you, her voice getting lower. “I haven’t seen you this happy in a thousand years, and I have a feeling it has to do with that fellow on the couch. He’s here for you now, you should go be with him.”

“See! Listen to your friend! She’s got the right idea.” Bucky said swinging his legs down and popping up to sit properly. The yellow ran from his face as his body rightened and he grinned. 

You only glared at Peggy. “Pegs, I’ve got to work. Do you see this mountain of paperwork? There are three more stacks just like it waiting for me in the other room. I don’t have time to be with him.”

“Let me take care of it,” she said hopping off the desk and walking around it to you. She turned your chair and pulled you from it, tugging you by the hand over to Bucky. “You go out, be nine hundred again, and leave the paperwork to me.”

“But what about Kr—”

“You can deal with him later,” she said, her voice dropping an octave. “But Bucky is here now. Go on a walk, secure your kingdom’s perimeter if you will, but spend time with him.”

“Yeah, (y/n),” Bucky chirped, a cheeky grin on his face, “spend time with me.”

Your face fell flat as you stared at him. You couldn’t believe Peggy was supporting this. There was so much to be done!

But at the same time, you really did want to go out with Bucky. You liked his company, and a walk sounded amazing after a couple hours of doing work. 

You turned back to Peggy, your eyebrows knitting together. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“I am. Now get! You’re just wasting time.” She took a seat behind your desk and picked up where you left off.

Bucky took your hand at once and led you out of the office, out of your home, and down the mountainside towards the fields below, a satisfied smile on his face.

You only scoffed at him when he turned back to grin at you. “I bet you’re real happy with yourself, aren’t you?”

“Oh, Doll, you have no idea.” He laced his fingers in yours, pulling you closer to his side. “Now, talk to me more about the early years. I’m curious to know about life BB—before Bucky.”

You threw your head back with laughter, but complied, beginning to tell him about what he missed in Ancient Greece. You told him about how most of the gods arrived at that time, right after the Titanomachy that had taken place in Thessaly all those centuries ago, and how the Greeks built the temples and shrines to them. You described the marble they used to carve statues of your family, laughing about how they depicted your sisters as men and gave them names like Zeus and Poseidon. You told him about the many temples they had built, going over the beautiful craftsmanship and the amazing attention to detail there was.

However, you didn’t tell him about how there were maybe three built for you or that they would only pray to you when someone was dying and pound their hands on the earth to get your attention because you didn’t find the details important. You weren’t a well-loved goddess to them; in fact, they feared you and found it best to not invoke your name unless they were absolutely desperate. You never minded it though; you preferred to be left alone.

Bucky listened to you with attentive ears, laughing at the right moments, asking you questions when you paused, and just being interested in what you had to say. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter more and more with each passing second. It was nice to have someone other than your family and Peggy actually care about what you had to say. He hung onto your every word, totally invested in your conversation.

For the time, it was just you and Bucky, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way as you circled the perimeter of your kingdom. Nothing other than the man beside you was on your mind, and it was a nice change.

For what seemed like hours you walked, trailing the wall of the Underworld, skulking through the waist-high flowers of the Asphodel Meadows, and nearing the border between the Underworld and the Mortal World.

You hadn’t even noticed that you’d neared the Cocytus until you saw _him_ standing ahead of you, his eyes dark and his posture stiff. He was anything but pleasant as he glared at your interlocked hands. Jealousy was written across Brock’s face plain as day, but you knew that he really had no reason to be jealous.

He’d made it clear to you decades ago that you were not a couple in a relationship. He didn’t do that kind of commitment, he had said, and so he had no reason to be possessive of you. 

But that didn’t stop his murder glare from piercing you across the path.

You stiffened when you saw him, tempted to let go of Bucky’s hand on instinct, but Bucky held you fast, his grip only tightening on your hand as if he sensed your uncertainty and wanted to help keep you strong.

You appreciated him there, letting him hold your hand as you sauntered right past Brock, never once losing a beat or faltering in your conversation.

Once you’d cleared the Cocytus, you looked over at Bucky, your eyes glinting and shimmering. “Thank you,” you mumbled in a voice just barely above a whisper.

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome.” He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed them against your knuckles. 

The two of you came up to the edge of your realm, right at the Acheron. Standing along the bank, you could see the Mortal World beyond the river. You slowed to a stop, looking out over the water at the souls milling about. You frowned as you watched them, their presence only reminding you about the work you had left to do.

Noticing your glum expression, Bucky bent down a bit to get a better look at your face. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “I’m just thinking about a task I have to do today. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing…” He pursed his lips and let go of your hand to stand in front of you. “Should I go?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. “What?”

“Should I go?” he repeated. “For the day, I mean. It was selfish of me to want to drag you away from your work when you have so much you have to get done. I can leave for the day and come back tomorrow or the next if you want. That way I’m not distracting you and you can actually work.”

You breathed a laugh and hung your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “That would… Actually, that would be great,” you said reaching forward and taking both his hands in yours. “I’m really sorry, Buck, but there’s just so much I have to get done.”

He laughed. “No, no. Don’t apologize to me. In fact, I should be apologizing to you. I forget that you’re a queen with responsibilities and I want to keep you all to myself, especially now that I just got you.” He let go of your hand to cup your cheek, and he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you later then? Give you at least a day to get caught back up?”

“Uh… Y-Yeah.”

“Good. Until then.” He let you go and turned his back on you, walking towards Phil’s ferry to get passage back to the Mortal World.

You, meanwhile, were trying to burn the feeling of his lips on your skin into your memory. Gods, they were so soft. Was it even legal for lips to be that soft? You weren’t sure, but you wanted to feel those lips again. It was the first time he’d ever kissed you on your head, and you couldn’t help but think about what it would’ve been like if his lips had traveled down a few inches more to yours.

Your vision flickered red and you quickly ducked your head away from Bucky. Heat began to rise to your face and you were certain you looked almost alive with the color from the blush. 

Well, that was enough Bucky for the day! Time to go to work.

You turned on your heel and pressed on into your kingdom, passing souls and security as you entered. 

Cerberus was standing guard over the entrance, all three of his heads glaring down at the lines that made their way into the three different sections of the Underworld. When he saw you, he barked happily, the noise shaking the ground beneath you, and ducked his middle head down right in front of you.

You smiled as your eyes met his, and you lifted a hand to pet his nose. “Hey, boy,” you mumbled as you dragged your fingers through his fur. “You doing your job?”

He let out a small noise in response, closing his eyes under your touch. 

You leaned in and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Good boy. I’ll come back and we can play later, but right now I have to go see my father. M’kay? Keep up the good work.” When you pulled your hand off him, he rose back to his full height and continued to survey the lines. 

You walked between his legs, passing under him as you entered the Underworld, and began the short journey to Tartarus. Your eyes scanned the area in front of you, always on the lookout for something suspicious. Typically there was nothing out of the ordinary, but today that was not the case.

You frowned as you saw a figure walking away from the cave that contained Tartarus and stopped. “Alexander!” you called out, commanding the attention of the god.

He stopped in his tracks as you called his name and looked up. He bowed his head as he deviated from his path and started to walk towards you. “Your majesty,” he said, lowering his head further as he came to a stop before you. “What can I do for you?”

You eyed him up and down. “Were you just coming from Tartarus?” you asked, your voice low and heavy with warning. He knew he wasn’t allowed near the cave. He’d been warned of the danger that was your father and you’d given him direct orders to steer clear of the cave. So why he would disobey you, you had no idea. 

Pierce was perhaps one of your most loyal lieutenants, second only to Peggy (though she really didn’t count as an employee). He’d never gone against one of your direct orders before, and so this was out of character for him.

Pierce simply kept his head low. “Yes, my queen,” he said slowly. Before you could jump on him, he held up his hands and said, “There were some disturbances at the cave. I went to quell the spirits so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, but then I noticed something.” 

“Noticed what?” you hissed, your vision turning red once more. You were still pissed that he had gone there against your orders, but you’d have to chew him out later if there was something else going on.

“The air there,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the mouth of the cave, “is darker than it normally is. The spirits are growing ornery and restless. Normally I can quiet them within minutes but these were… _different_.” He shook his head and rose to his full height—only a couple of inches taller than you. “I was just on my way to find you, my queen, but it seems that you have found me instead.”

You thrust out your hand and the black metal of your bident materialized out of thin air. “Show me,” you growled.

He wasted no time in taking you down the beaten path to the mouth of the cave, and, as soon as you got within ten yards of it, you felt what Pierce meant. Tartarus had always been cold, but this was freezing. 

The air was heavy with cold, weighing you down and draining what little life you had from your body. Transparent spirits gathered at the entrance, wailing as they clawed at the invisible barrier that kept them in. They screamed in their own tongues, though their words were jumbled and undecipherable.

You waved your bident at the spirits, driving them back with the arc. “Follow me,” you ordered as you began to walk towards the cave, holding your weapon out in front of you as a ward against the spirits.

Pierce followed you into the cave, keeping close so as to not be swallowed by the spirits as they closed ranks in your wake. 

You marched through the cave, right up to the edge of the pit, and stared down into the abyss.

Laughter greeted you at once. “Oh, my darling daughter,” Kronos’ voice rumbled from the depths. “Come to pay me another visit, I see. And you’ve brought a friend this time. Is that the god of death I sense?”

“Don’t answer him,” you cautioned, conjuring a ball of red flame. You held the orb out over the pit and dropped it in. You watched the light sink into the depths until the light was swallowed by darkness. 

As soon as it disappeared, Kronos laughed again. “Oh, (y/n), did you send a minion to come and check up on me? Why don’t you come down here and face me yourself? Or are you too scared?”

You ignored him as you waited for the fire to return, and it finally did after a few moments. It rose out of the pit, blue instead of red, and hovered right in front of you. You snatched it out of the air and stared into it. 

A picture shimmered on its surface—a picture of a cage and a figure bound to the ground inside it. The bars of the cage were an ancient black. Made from vibranium—the strongest metal in the cosmos—the cage was unbreakable and impervious. Purple runes and Greek letters glowed on the bars, depicting spells that you’d carved into the metal yourself. At one point in time, these runes were blinding with power, showing how strong they were; but now they were barely as bright as a small flame. They’d been weakened. 

You zoomed in, past the bars to the cage’s inhabitant.

He was barely visible, but you didn’t care about him. No, you cared about the chains binding him. They too were made of vibranium and had runes carved into them, but their runes and carvings had dimmed down considerably as well. 

Your hands trembled around the orb and you closed your fists, extinguishing it. 

This was, to put it lightly, not-fucking-good. If he broke out, it would mean another war, and that was not something you could afford to let happen. The last war nearly destroyed you and had taken a decade to fight. You couldn’t let another breakout. You refused to let your father escape.

Turning your back on the pit, you looked to Pierce. Your gaze was as hard as steel and deadly serious as you commanded, “Put your best soldiers here to guard the entrance. You will help me charm his bonds. You will pull the oldest, strongest spells you have, and you will do everything in your power to bar him from breaking free. But whatever you do, do not go to the pit itself. You stand outside, at the mouth of the cave, and you do not go in under any circumstances. I command it.”

He bowed low, his face turned to the ground. “Yes, my queen.”

“Good. Now get out of here. Any second in here is dangerous.”

He obeyed, turning on his heel and darting out of the cave. 

You rolled your shoulders back and stared down at the darkness beneath you. Puffing out your chest, the rouge in your vision only thickening, you began to chant your spells. You wove magic out of nothing, summoning all the strength you had to help you bind him and refresh the wards against him.

Kronos only laughed. “You think this will avoid your fate, my darling? No, you only delay the inevitable. Why do you resist me, (y/n)? You know that history is bound to repeat itself. I will break out of here and I will have your head on a pike and the world will be mine. I will take it back to the Golden Age where titans ruled the world, and the gods will be no more.”

Your voice grew in intensity and volume, drowning him out. You refused to let his words become a reality, and if that meant you’d have to spend every day at the pit’s edge, then so be it.

———

You stayed at the pit’s edge for hours, maybe longer, chanting and invoking the ancient magic you had used to seal him away the first time. You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you finally left the cave, but it was long enough for your voice to become hoarse and sore with strain.

You only stopped when your orb revealed the runes glowing significantly brighter than they had been, shining with strength and resolve. You knew that you still had a long way to go to bring them back to their full potential, but this was good for today. You needed a rest to think and plan, and this was not the place to take that rest.

Kronos had not shut up the entire time, his voice matching yours in volume and eagerness. He taunted you relentlessly, describing in perfect detail what he was going to do to you and the world when he escaped. Even now, as you finished your spells and made a move to leave, he continued to talk to you, trying to get into your head.

You refused to listen to him. You were done, and you were tired, and you just wanted to go home. You picked yourself up and dragged your feet as you left Tartarus—left _him_—behind. Spirits created a hole for you as you walked, fleeing to the edges of the tunnels to avoid you, so you had nothing to block your path. It was only moments before you were out.

As you trekked across the Meadows, your thoughts ran a million miles a second. How had his prison and bindings been weakened? How was it possible? You knew that the spells and wards wore away with time, but you had been to the pit every single week to strengthen them. There was no way they should’ve been as weak as they were. It just wasn’t feasible. Unless…

Your footsteps faltered and you came to an abrupt stop. 

There was no way they could’ve been that weak unless they had been tampered with. 

That single thought opened up doors to millions of questions. Who had tampered with the cage? Why? What was their goal? Were they aware of what would happen should Kronos got free? Did they know and just don’t care? Are they under his control?

There were so many things to consider, but one fact was true: someone was helping him. 

And you had to put a stop to it.

You wasted no time in rushing back to your home, shooting through the door, and immediately proceeding to your office. It was vacant, your desk clear of papers you’d been working on. Peggy must have finished the paperwork for you, something you were immensely grateful for. You had bigger things on your mind.

You shut the door behind you and fished out your phone. You unlocked it and scrolled through your contacts, selecting two contacts and the conference call option. Setting the phone on speaker, you set it on the desk and took a seat in your chair.

As the phone rang, two images flashed in your office—one of each of your sisters. They stood frozen because they had yet to answer your call. You folded your hands and rested your elbows on the desk, watching the figures anxiously. “Come on, come on,” you mumbled, your legs shaking anxiously. “Pick up. Pick up your phones. Please.”

Nat’s hologram was the first to come to life. She was mid-laugh, probably in response to something Bruce had said, when she answered. “Hey, (y/n)!” she said, not looking at you yet. “What’s—?” Her head turned and her eyes met yours. One look at your haggard appearance and worried eyes stopped her laughing. “What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Carol’s hologram came to life and cut you off. “(y/n)?” it called out, looking at you right away. 

“Hey guys,” you greeted, your voice gravelly from being used for hours. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.”

“What’s going on?” Carol’s gaze was serious as she stared at you. Her fists were clenched at her sides and her body was tense.

You took a deep breath and began to tell them about what had happened. You told them about the spirits being restless and what your messenger flame had shown you. You told them about your suspicions that someone was helping him, and that if they continued to help then there was a strong chance he could escape.

Their faces betrayed their fear as you progressed in your story, but they stayed silent as they let you catch them up to speed.

When you had finished, Natasha was the first to speak. “What do you need us to do?” Her voice was resolute and determined. “Should we come there? Layer on some of our own spells?”

“That honestly might not be a bad idea,” you murmured, “but I mostly need you to keep an eye up there. I trust my men, I don’t believe that they would betray us like that, and even if I didn’t, none of them are capable of something like this. They don’t have enough power. But I know there are some titans up on the surface whom we have not always been on the best of terms with. Maybe one of them has decided they hate us and want to release Father. But whatever their reasoning, I need you guys to watch for titans who might be sneaking down here to tamper with his cage.”

“Got it.” Carol looked at you, her eyes worried. “And what are you going to do?”

“What I can. I’ll be down at the pit every other day, layering ward over ward against him. I’m having Pierce and Peggy help me too. They’ll be on alternating shifts so they’ll be less likely to be corrupted, but they’ll be contributing. Maybe we can nip this in the bud before it grows into a bigger problem.” You gave them a weak smile. You weren’t sure how this was going to play out, but you had to believe that the worst could be prevented. You had to believe in yourself and your siblings and have faith that everything would be okay.

“Alright. Just, don’t strain yourself too much, (y/n),” Nat cautioned. “You might be the eldest, but you don’t have to do this on your own. We can help you, and if you need us, we will drop everything and rush to your side. Don’t be afraid to call on us.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “Thank you, guys. I’ll keep you posted on the situation.”

“Okay. Don’t worry about it too much,” Carol said, that familiar and reassuring smile coating her lips. “We’ll prevail and fix this. We always do.”

“I know.” A knock at the office door drew your attention away from your sisters. “Just a moment!” You called out before turning back to the holograms. “I have to go now, but I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Carol moved to hang up but she stopped and looked at you once more. “Oh, and (y/n)?”

“Hmm?”

“Be careful, alright?”

You smiled softly. “I will be. Talk to you later.” You pressed the end call button and the holograms vanished. Alone in the room now, you looked towards the door. “Come in!

It opened to reveal Peggy. She slowly pushed it open and entered, closing the door behind her. “Are you alright? You never call your sisters like that.”

You breathed a laugh. “Actually, Peg, no. I’m not alright. I’m nervous, and I’m anxious, and I’m fucking terrified.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did Bucky do something to you.” She took a seat on the couch.

You shook your head as you stood and made your way around the desk to the couch so you could sit next to her. “No, he did nothing. I sent him home so I could do some work and, well…” For the second time today, you recounted what you’d seen in Tartarus, only, this time, you added in the fact that you had your sisters on the lookout and that you were going to go down every other day instead of just every week.

Peggy’s eyes grew more and more concerned as every detail was described to her, but she too listened in silence. She hung onto your every word, wringing her hands together as she absorbed the information.

You took a deep breath after you filled her in on the situation and looked at her with pleading eyes. “Peggy, I really, really don’t want to have to ask you this, especially not after everything you’ve been through with him, but I have no other choice. Will you help me in casting spells on his cage? You don’t have to say yes; I know what happened last time, and if you’re not comfortable with going back I will not make—”

“I’ll do it,” she said cutting you off, a kind and compassionate smile on her face. “No ifs, ands, or buts. You’re my best friend, and I would do anything to help you.”

Just like that, a weight was lifted from your chest. “Thank you, Peggy.” You beamed at her. “I figure that the wider the variety of spells we cast on him, the harder it will be for him to break free. Carol and Natasha will pop down sometime soon and layer their own magic over it, and you and Pierce will do your magic on a rotating shift. That way neither of you will be at as great of a risk as you would be doing it alone.”

“I understand, (y/n),” she said, putting her hand on your shoulder and squeezing it gently. “And I’ll do all in my power to help you out. You won’t have to do this alone.” She gave you one last squeeze before climbing off the couch. “Anyways! I had originally come down to see if you were hungry and wanted dinner. You up for Mexican? I’m craving a taco.”

You could only hang your head as you laughed at her. “You know what? Sure. I could go for some food. Just get me my usual.”

“Got it. Be back in a second.” She scurried from the office, closing the door behind her.

Left alone, you shifted on the couch so you were sitting properly and let your head fall onto the backrest. You closed your eyes and sighed heavily, letting everything out. 

Gods, you were stressed; and this day had started out so good too. Why did this have to come up and derail your happiness? You’d finally started to settle down, get a little slice of domesticity and happiness for yourself, and now your father, like usual, had to ruin it.

You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes closed. Why you? Why were you not allowed just a moment of happiness? Why couldn’t you get it?

You will get it. Just wait.

You had to remind yourself that this situation was not permanent, but a temporary nuisance. You were on top of it. You’d caught the problem soon enough to get rid of it. In a matter of weeks, you could return to normal, and this would all be over. It would all be okay.

A knock at your office door once more drew you out of your thoughts. You didn’t open your eyes as you called out, “You know it’s open! Just come in already.”

The person on the other side obeyed and the door creaked open. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Damn, Peggy. I thought it would’ve taken you longer to get back.”

“It’s not Peggy, Precious.”

Your smile melted into a frown and you sighed before opening your eyes. “Brock.”

He grinned softly, sliding onto the couch beside you. “Did you miss me?” He moved to wrap his arm around your shoulders. 

Lifting a hand and setting it on his forearm, you stopped his advance. “Brock, what are you doing here?” Your voice was low, hesitant, guarded. It surprised you how cold you were being towards him.

It must’ve surprised him too because he looked taken aback. His jaw tightened as he forced a smile. “I came to see you, Precious. It’s been a while, and I thought that we could—”

“Fuck?” Your arms were crossed over your chest, your chin tilted up, and you looked at him down your nose. “I’m sorry, Brock. I’m not in the mood. You can leave now.” You’d never spoken to him like this. Holy shit, what were you doing? Your heart raced in your chest, but you kept your face stoic and unfeeling. 

He squinted his eyes at you and tilted his head to the side, his lips falling open ever so slightly. “What? No, (y/n), that’s not what I—”

“Really? Then what did you want, Brock?”

“I-I… I just wanted to talk to you. I haven’t seen you in so long, and I thought that… We could… You _know_.” He was floundering and you could tell. 

You had a gut feeling that the only reason he’d shown up today was that he’d seen you and Bucky earlier and he wanted to know what was going on. But the funny and satisfying thing about it was that you didn’t have to tell him. He didn’t own you. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You owed him no explanation. You looked away from him, biting the inside of your cheek. “No, Brock, I don’t know. While I might have many powers and abilities, mind reading is not one of them. You’ll have to spell it out for me.”

His eye twitched just barely, but he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I missed you, (y/n). I wanted to spend time with you. Talk to you. Do something?”

“Oh, so you’re only now just missing me? Not three months ago, but now? Huh.” You kept your gaze trained ahead as you stood. “Well, I’m sorry, Brock, but I’m a little busy right now. I don’t have the time for this.”

You took one step away before he reached out and latched onto your hand, halting you and keeping you close. “(y/n), please!”

You took a breath before pulling your hand out of his. “‘Please’ what, Brock? What do you need?”

He wasn’t sure; it was written all over his face. You could see the confusion and desperation in his face—the furrowed brows, the longing eyes, the parted lips… It was a foreign look on his face. “I just… Who was that man you were with?”

You almost laughed at the question, but you were glad he finally stopped beating around the bush and gotten to the point. Now you could stop wasting time. You turned around to face him, craning your neck downwards to meet his eyes. “No one of your concern.”

“You were holding his hand; I think it is my concern considering you’re my—”

“I’m your what? Not your girlfriend—you made that perfectly clear decades ago. I’m also not your wife—I would remember that wedding.” You pressed your lips together and lowered your head. “I’m nothing to you other than a woman who you were able to fuck with whenever you wanted.”

“Come on, (y/n)! You know that’s not true!” 

“It’s not? Then why did you never stick around the morning after? Why was it that every time you came over we ended up in bed?” Your voice was growing louder now, more agitated than ever. “Why did you never stop to ask me how I was doing or ask to meet my family? Why did you…” A lump had risen in your throat and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push it down. “Why did you laugh at me when I suggested that you become my king? I’ve given you so much—so many chances to make me yours, and you’ve thrown it all away. I’m done.”

“You’re done? What do you mean, ‘you’re done?’” 

“I mean, I’m done with you. I can’t keep doing this, Brock: letting you in and letting you break my heart over and over again. I’ve had enough. Whatever we are, whatever we had, it’s over.”

“(y/n). You can’t mean that. You just can’t.” He stood up and grabbed your waist tenderly. “Please. I love you.”

“If you loved me, you would’ve told me sooner.”

At that, his gaze hardened. “This isn’t you. Is this that boy speaking? Did he do something to you?”

“He did nothing to me other than be everything you weren’t. And that ‘boy’ is ten times the man you ever will be.” You pulled yourself out of his grasp and took a step back. “You can leave now.”

He stood there, dumbstruck and incredulous like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “(y/n)…”

“Leave.” Your voice was firm with resolve and you stood your ground. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He only stood there, unable to really do anything other than obey. He walked towards the door, pausing before leaving. He turned to look at you over his shoulder. His voice was small when he said, “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

Yours was strong when you said, “Maybe you never did.”


	13. He Gets the Visit of His Life

Bucky had said that he’d give (y/n) a day at least to get back on her feet in terms of work, but he wasn’t sure exactly how much time she wanted. Was just one enough, or did she need more?

Eight days had passed since he’d left (y/n) at the border and, sappy and cliche as it might be, he missed her. He missed her smile and her laugh and even her sour glares she gave him when he said something stupid (which was often if he was being honest, but he only did it to get those damn glares from her).

He wondered how she was doing without him. Not that she needed him or anything—she was perfectly capable of living on her own—but she had told him she had a lot of work to do and he was curious to see how she was doing. He could only imagine how boring the paperwork was. He’d sat there and watched her do it one day and he nearly fell asleep. He felt so bad for her if that’s what she was stuck doing. Maybe he could rescue her and bring her to the island. Get her some sun. If there was one thing that was good about being in the Mediterranean, it was that it was sunny year-round.

Lying there in the grass under the shade of a tree to shield him from the sweltering sun, Bucky sighed and shut his eyes. He didn’t think it really mattered what (y/n) was doing at that moment and daydreaming about taking her out in the sun wasn’t doing any good.. The fact of the matter was that he missed her and he really wanted to see her. But he had to wait. Delayed gratification always paid out in the end and—

“Hey, Buck!” Sam’s voice called, pulling him from his thoughts. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Bucky groaned, keeping his eyes shut. “Tell my mother I’m sleeping.”

Sam laughed and Bucky felt him sit down beside him. “It’s not your mother. I think you’re going to want to go get them before Steve loses his mind.”

Bucky peeled an eye open and looked over at Sam. “What are you talking about?”

He nodded his head forward. “See for yourself.”

Bucky opened his eyes fully and sat up to look at the clearing. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Standing in the clearing, talking to Steve, were two women and a large dog. He only just recognized the woman on the left as Peggy, the goddess of magic, but he would’ve known the woman on the right anywhere. 

(y/n) was dressed for a sunny day with a pair of loose black shorts hanging from her hips, a dark grey tank top hugging her torso, and a floppy black hat casting shade on her face. Cerberus stood by her side, nearly attached to her hip, as he sniffed Steve’s hand eagerly. (y/n) had her fingers tangled in his fur as she pet him absently, listening to whatever Steve was saying. A kind smile adorned her lips. When Bucky moved, he drew her attention and those striking eyes of hers landed on him. Her smile only widened when she saw him, and she raised her other hand in greeting.

He could only stare at her, his lips parted in awe. 

He’d never seen her venture out of the Underworld in the daytime and actually have time to appreciate her in the sun. The only time he’d seen her in the Mortal World like this was when she threw him out the first time. She was beautiful then, but it was a scary beautiful—the kind that came from radiating power and “I’ll kick your ass” energy. But now? She was stunning with the gentle glow that came with familiarity and sincerity. The sun kissed her skin, giving her a lively glow that seemed to send color to her flesh. She looked alive, and Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat.

He was on his feet and making long strides over to the quartet before he knew it.

(y/n)’s eyes never left him and her smile only grew brighter as he approached. “I thought you were going to come back later,” she said, her tone taking on a teasing tone. 

A smile to match hers covered Bucky’s face. “Oh, I was, Doll, but I wasn’t sure how much time you’d need to get caught up.” 

“Only a day or two. Eight was far too many.” She chuckled. “But time is irrelevant when you live forever.” She turned her gaze from him and looked back up at Steve. “Your friend here was kind enough to fill us in on all your moping over the past few days. Did you really miss me that much?”

“He did,” Steve confirmed, nudging Bucky with his elbow. 

Bucky hissed a “Hey” at Steve before rolling his eyes. “He’s exaggerating the whole thing. I was not moping.”

“Mhmm.”

He cleared his throat. “Anyways! Why are you guys up here? I’ve never seen you topside and dressed for,” he gestured vaguely, “leisure.”

(y/n) looked down at Cerberus. “Well, we needed a bit of fresh air, and Cerberus wanted to go on a walk, so we figured we’d pop up for a bit and see you. You’ve been going under for so long that I figured it was my turn to come up and see you.”

Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest. She wanted to come and see him. She left her kingdom to come to him. If that wasn’t dedication, he didn’t know what was. He smiled at her and offered her his hand. “Then shall we give your beloved pup a walk?”

She took it without hesitation and nodded. “Yes.” She turned her head back towards her companion. “Pegs?”

“You go on!” the other woman encouraged. “I’ll be here talking with Steve.” She shot a grin at the blond man, eliciting a blush to rise to his cheeks.

(y/n)’s eyebrows rose in acknowledgment, a smirk playing on her lips. “Alright then. Come on, Buck.” She squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the trees that led out of the clearing.

He followed her, tugging her too. “This way,” he coaxed as he led her through the trees. “I know a good path for walking. Mortals rarely travel it.”

“Perfect.” She let him take the lead.

Cerberus trotted just a bit ahead of them, sniffing down at every little leaf he came across. His tail was wagging rapidly at the excitement of new surroundings. Bucky supposed he hadn’t really seen anything living in, well, ever. 

As if thinking the same thing, (y/n) giggled at her dog. “He doesn’t get out much,” she admitted sheepishly. “He’s a busy dog.”

“Oh, I bet.” Bucky hummed and pulled her closer as they emerged from the trees onto the vacant path. “I still can’t believe you came up here.”

“Honestly? Me neither.” She looked down. “But I needed a small break. Things in the Underworld… Well, they’re not looking too hot right now.”

He frowned and ducked his head to see her. “How do you mean?”

Her lips had formed a thin line as she looked ahead. “Kronos’ cage is… It was weakened. Like, so weak he could’ve broken out at any moment.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “I thought that you went down every week to—”

“I did. We think that someone might’ve tampered with it. Our leading hypothesis is titans, but everyone’s been accounted for.” She growled under her breath and her hand squeezed his with frustration. “But we’ve quadrupled up on security and have spent countless hours strengthening the cage. Everyone is doing their best. Even my sisters have come down to help. At this rate, it looks like we’ll be back to normal within days and we can put this whole thing behind us as a fluke. But it’s just been so hectic down there and I needed a break.”

“So you came to me?”

“Exactly.” She rubbed small circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. “I feel calm with you, Buck. So when I needed a break to just chill out, the only place that came to my mind was by your side.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal, but the words made Bucky’s heart pound.

He cleared his throat and his eyes darted down to her. He was glad that he could put her at ease, and he thought to himself that he could help her by breaking the tension with a bit of comedic relief. So, with a teasing grin on his face, he asked, “Do you wear anything other than black?”

Her head snapped up to him, and she stared at him. “Pardon?”

He gestured at her outfit. “Screw me, I’m trying to make conversation and lighten the mood. You’re stressed.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways! I only see you in black. Do you wear anything else?” 

A skeptical smile crossed her lips, but she answered him, “Yes. Sometimes I wear greys or reds.”

“So only gloomy colors?”

“I suppose.” Her smile gave way to an amused chuckle.

“What about a nice yellow? I think you could pull off yellow.”

Her chuckle turned into a full roar of laughter. “Yellow! Bucky, the day I wear yellow will be the day I die.”

“So never. After all, gods can’t die.”

She turned to him, a coy smile on her lips. “Now that is where you’re wrong. It’s very rare, but gods can die or be killed.” She paused. “I’ve seen it happen; in fact, I’ve had to kill some myself.” 

“What?” He turned to look at her, his eyes concerned. He’d never heard of this, and it made him anxious and worried for her to know that she had killed a god.

She continued to walk, acting as nonchalant as if she were talking about swatting a fly. “Erebus, the god of deep darkness and shadows was rebelling against us, trying to set my father free. He was a minor god, so he wasn’t a real threat, but he was still guilty of high treason against Olympus. Carol hated to do it, but she had to sentence him to death. Who better to be the official executioner than the goddess of the dead?”

Bucky continued to stare at her, his heart aching for her. He’d never really witnessed death before, but he could only imagine how horrible it was for her. Despite being surrounded by death down in the Underworld, he never could imagine what it was like dealing it out. “Wh-What did you do?”

She glanced at him sideways. “I don’t want to get into the details with you, Buck. You don’t really need to concern yourself with it. Death is… Well, it’s not always pretty. I don’t want to make you worried or ruin your innocence. Death is a nasty business.”

He nodded, but there was still something that bothered him. Every god presided over some dominion or another. Every god controlled some important aspect of life. What happens to their role when they die?

“(y/n)?”

“Hmm?”

“If Erebus is dead, then what happened to his…”

“His charges? The deep darkness and shadows?”

It was like she read his mind. He nodded. 

“I took them. When a god dies, another has to take their role. Sometimes it goes to the god that already presides over something similar, sometimes it goes to the one most willing to take it.” She lifted her hand and instantly wisps of darkness curled around her fingers. “I was already Queen of the Underworld, a place that practically bathed in the deep darkness and shadows, so I took on the role.” She closed her fist and the shadows vanished. 

Bucky couldn’t decide if he was fascinated or terrified by the whole thing. He was impressed that she had more power because of the death, but he was frightened by the prospect that any god could become more powerful by killing another. 

“Don’t worry though. It’s extremely difficult to kill a god. Only one of the Big Three’s weapons or our father’s weapon can do it in one fell swoop, and my sisters and I keep our weapons under lockdown when we aren’t using them. The only other thing I can think of that could kill a god would be a sickness, and even then it would have to be a powerful sickness.” She shrugged. “Don’t fret about it, no one is dying anytime soon.”

“If you say I shouldn’t, I won’t.”

“Then don’t.” She fell silent for a bit before laughing. “Well, that was a failed attempt at keeping the conversation light. We go from talking about clothes to talking about death.”

“Well, when your girlfriend is the goddess of the dead, death and all its tangents are probably going to be normal conversation topics.”

At that, (y/n) froze and pulled Bucky to a sudden stop.

He grunted as he stumbled, pulled by his hand which was still holding hers. “You alright?” He hadn’t been expecting that, and he didn’t think she would stop unless she had good reason to. His eyes searched her body for any sign of sudden injury or disturbance, but all he could find was the startled expression on her face. 

She stared at him, still as death, her eyes darting all over his body. Her lips were parted in a silent gasp.

“(y/n)?” he called again, his voice cautious and timid.

She was silent for a few moments more before she asked, in a voice as timid as his own, “Wh-What did you just call me?”

“(y/n)?”

“No, before that.”

He paused, wracking his brain for the word. When he finally realized what she meant, heat rose to his face. “I called you m-my girlfriend.”

Hearing it again, she turned her head down, eyeing him through her lashes. “Bucky… You’ve only known me for seven months or so. That’s… that’s not that long at all.” She hung her head, her expression unreadable.

For the first time in a while, Bucky was scared he’d overstepped the unsaid boundaries they’d established. His heart sank in his chest. What had he been thinking? Where had he gotten the idea that they were a couple? Was it from the countless hours they’d spent together? Was it the both of them kinda admitting their feelings back at Pop’s Pastries with no one but the fluorescent lights to bear witness? Why had he thought that meant she wanted to be with him even when he hadn’t asked? Was he really so stupid as to rush into this too fast and just assume? 

He lowered his head in shame. “I… I know and I’m sorry, Doll. I shouldn’t have assumed anything and I—”

“No!” she said suddenly. “I mean, I don’t mind. I just… I’ve never been an official girlfriend before and it’s just… It’s different, y’know?”

“Like a good different?”

She paused for a moment, deliberating silently, before nodding. “I think so. But, if I’m your girlfriend, does that make you my boyfriend?”

“If you want me to be.”

She was quiet for a bit before she nodded her head. The motion was slow at first, so slow that Bucky hardly noticed it, but then she began to nod her head more eagerly and a smile that lit up her whole face took over. “I’d like that very much, but I’m changing the name. ‘Boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ sounds like something teenagers use. I think I’d prefer you to be my partner.”

He chuckled. “Then your partner I shall be. I don’t care what you call me so long as I can be with you.”

“But also,” she said staring at him pointedly, “you have to actually ask me out before we can be anything. Just because I like you doesn’t mean you can cut corners.”

“Fine. (y/n), will you go out on a date with me?”

Her eyes sparkled with joy and mischief as she said, “Sure. Aren’t we on one now?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by Cerberus yipping and the sound of footsteps approaching. 

(y/n) whistled sharply, drawing Cerberus to her side, and placed her hand on his head to hide his red eyes. She straightened up, her cheery manner being replaced with something more serious, and stared down the path where two figures were making their way up.

Bucky’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen mortals up here. Most of the time he only came across animals or nymphs, but these were full-fledged humans. He tugged (y/n) closer to him, encircling her waist with his arm as he pulled her towards the side of the path to let the people pass.

They were a pair of men, right around Bucky and (y/n)’s physical age, who were huddled together and murmuring in hushed whispers. They were American based on their accents, probably tourists, but that didn’t explain why they were this deep in the island. All the tourist attractions were closer to the bay or the city.

(y/n) had stiffened as she watched them grow nearer; she was not used to living creatures. Bucky saw her eyes flash a light shade of red.

He leaned into her so his lips were just inches away from her ear. “Easy,” he whispered. “They’ll be gone soon.”

She didn’t relax; her glare was fixed on them. “Why are they here?” she hissed. “I thought you said mortals don’t come up this far.”

“Sane ones don’t,” he confirmed before leaning back and calling out to the boys, “Hey! You kids lost or something?”

The one on the left, a brunet, perked up, his eyes startled. “Oh! Uh, sorry, mister. No, we aren’t lost.”

“Then why are you here?” (y/n) took her hand off of her companion’s head and crossed her arms impatiently.

The second boy, a blond, withered slightly under her gaze, his head bowing low. “We heard from locals that the gods roamed here in ancient times. The stories say that they still do. We’re theology majors in college and doing a project on Greek Mythology. We didn’t mean to trespass.”

(y/n) snorted, probably from the comment about the gods. “You boys came up here based on some stories? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s all they are: stories. And pretty inaccurate ones if we’re being honest. I mean really? Where did they come up with some of that stuff.”

Bucky found her exasperation amusing, especially since most of the inaccurate myths were about her and her sisters. She looked about ready to rant about the truth of the gods but, although Bucky could listen to her talk for hours about anything, he really didn’t think that she should blow their cover to a couple of kids. He tightened his grip on her waist and whispered her name.

She slackened just a bit in his grip, but her eyes never left the men. “You shouldn’t be up here. It’s dangerous.”

The blond was the first to respond by saying, “Please. We just want to explore and maybe take some pictures for the project. Will you at least let us do that?”

Bucky was quick to answer. “Sure, but you guys are seriously going to want to get out of here soon. Not so nice characters venture out here sometimes, and they don’t like intruders.”

They gulped.

Bucky took (y/n)’s hand. “Come on, Doll. Let’s go.”

She whistled once more to Cerberus, giving him the okay to walk, and the three of them began to continue down the path. “Have a nice trip,” (y/n) said, her smile growing mischievous as her eyes flashed red at the boys.

The color seemed to drain from their skin as they stared at her incredulously.

When they were out of earshot, Bucky leaned down to her. “Really?”

She turned to him, her eyebrow cocked. “‘Really’ what?”

“Are you trying to blow our cover? Flashing your eyes at them?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Nah, just trying to scare them a bit. I never get to have fun with the mortals.” Her lips turned down in a pout. “Let me mess with them!”

“You probably scared them shitless, Doll. I know I’d be freaked if I saw a pretty girl with red eyes.”

“Oh really?” She closed her eyes for a second before opening them to reveal the red that had taken over her irises.

Bucky’s breath hitched in the back of his throat as the rouge stared at him, ensnaring him with their striking gaze. Her eyes shone like rubies, piercing his soul and seeing the very depths of his heart. They were gorgeous, enchanting even. He’d never get tired of that color. “Really really,” he murmured, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to her cheek.

The giggle that passed through her lips was music to his ears. “Gods, you’re such an idiot.”

“I know.” He slowed to a stop by a small bush on the side of the path and reached for it. Simultaneously, it reached back, a small red poppy to match (y/n)’s eyes blossoming as it grew. By the time Bucky’s fingers had reached the plant and gripped the stem, it was in full bloom. Bucky plucked the flower and turned back to (y/n), tucking it behind her ear. “But I’m your idiot.” He let his hand linger on her cheek.

Color rose to her face as she leaned into his hand. “Yes you are,” she mumbled. “Come on, idiot. We probably should be getting back now. Who knows what mischief Peggy and your friend have gotten up to.”

“What? Peggy and Steve? Nah, Steve might be a dumbass, but he’s the second most responsible out of the three of us.” Bucky had no doubt that they were fine, if not hitting it off swell. Ever since his growth spurt, Steve had grown more confident around people. Though, he didn’t know if “people” necessarily included goddesses. Well, guess it was time to find out. 

(y/n) hummed as she turned him and Cerberus around to head back the way they came. “So then does that make you the least responsible?”

“Heh, yeah. But hey, my lack of responsibility led me to you.” And it did; if he had been responsible, he never would’ve taken Steve seriously and ventured down to the Underworld to get that ruby.

“True.” 

They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the clearing. 

Sam had vanished, probably to head down to the city and get food, but Peggy and Steve were sitting in the center of the field. Peggy was laughing at something Steve had said and Steve had the distinct red tint of a blush on his cheeks. Bucky smiled softly as he briefly observed them. Steve and the goddess seemed to be hitting it off. He’d have to make an inquiry about it later.

(y/n) stopped him at the edge of the clearing, right before they exited the trees, and turned to him. “Thank you for letting me come up, Bucky. Even if it was just for a bit. It was just the break I needed.”

He hummed. “Don’t mention it, Doll. You’re always welcome up here. Any time I get to see you makes my day, so feel free to visit whenever.”

“And the same goes for you, Buck.” She looked down at their hands which were still intertwined. “The Underworld is always open for you. You have every right to be down there. And I…” She frowned and bit her lip as if she was confused by what she wanted to or was about to say.

“And you…” Bucky prompted her, hoping to help her get the words out.

She held her silence for a bit longer before pressing her lips together and nodding. “And I want you to come down and see me. My responsibilities keep me pretty tied down there, I won’t always be able to come up and see you like this, but I want to see you. I want you to come down and see me. So please don’t be a stranger.”

Bucky held one of her hands in his as he used the other to cup her cheek. He gently leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I won’t, my queen.”

Satisfied with his answer, she straightened up, a soft grin on her face. “Good. Then I think Peggy, Cerberus and I will be taking our leave.”

“Good luck prying her from Steve’s hands,” Bucky said, looking out at his best friend and the goddess.

(y/n) said nothing but walked out to the pair, Cerberus keeping pace with her wide strides. She crouched down beside Peggy and said something inaudible to her, probably detailing that they had to go.

Peggy nodded and stood. She turned down to Steve and smiled, murmuring something that made him smile back. Peggy stood next to (y/n).

(y/n) dug into her pocket and pulled out what Bucky could only assume to be an Asphodel seed. But, before dropping it, she looked up at him one more time and gave him a smile. He could practically hear her saying, “Until next time,” with the grin. She tossed the seed onto the ground beneath them and the three of them were swallowed by the earth. 

A single Asphodel was left behind.

Left alone with Steve, Bucky walked into the clearing, stopping just beside the Asphodel sprout. He stared down at the flower, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Steve watched it too, but a frown was tugging the corners of his lips down. “We have to pick it, Buck. You know your mom will flip if she sees it.”

“I know. Just…” He sat down next to the flower and looked it over, the feeling of (y/n)’s hand in his lingering. “Just let it live a bit longer.”


	14. She Makes a Confession

“Tell me about yourself.”

You glanced up at Bucky across the pool, your lips halting on the brim of your mug. “What do you want to know?”

Bucky shrugged as he sat on the pool chair. “I don’t know. Just something about yourself that you’ve never told anyone.”

“And why should I tell you that?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend and girlfriends tell boyfriends things.” His smile was cheeky as fuck as he beamed at you across the pool.

You set your coffee mug on the side table and sat up straighter, leaning forward so your elbows rested on your bare knees. “Oh, do they now?”

“Oh, they do,” he confirmed. He smiled at you, baring his teeth, and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling back.

Bucky had made his way down to the Underworld yet again, and this time you decided to entertain him by the pool. He didn’t bring any swim trunks with him, but you were able to conjure some out of the abundant darkness around you. It was the first time you’d ever seen him in black (he typically wore light blues and whites), and you had to admit that he looked fucking good in it. Like, holy shit. When you saw him come out of the house in nothing but his black trunks you nearly lost your mind.

You’d known he was good looking, what with his chiseled jaw and those love-me-tender blue eyes that always seemed to stare into your soul, but seeing him half-naked was a whole new level of good looking. With his defined and well-built body, he went from attractive to hot-as-Hades. You could’ve just stayed there and stared at him for hours, but you doubted he wanted to sit there for your viewing pleasure. 

You watched Bucky from across the pool, eyes trailing over his entire figure. The black swim trunks and blue light coming off the pool made him ethereal. You wished for a moment that he could always be down here. You couldn’t believe that you’d lasted two months of officially dating without seeing this.

Clearing your throat, you tore your eyes away from him. “Well, you get three questions to ask me. Better make them worth your while.”

“Oh, three questions, eh?” He over exaggerated a shudder for your amusement. “Hmmm. Do the questions replenish ever?” 

“Once a day. You’re down to two.”

His face was aghast. “What? No! That shouldn’t have counted as a question!”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “But it was a legitimate question so therefore it does count. Ask again.”

He breathed an exasperated laugh. “Gods… So much pressure. Alright, let’s see.” His brow furrowed in concentration as he thought and, if you were being honest, it was adorable. Finally, he sat up straighter and clapped his hands together. “Alright. I got one. Ahem. How did you end up ruling the Underworld? Did you have a choice? Wouldn’t you rather have taken the position of Queen of the gods since you’re technically the oldest?” 

You wrinkled your nose at him. “That’s like three questions.”

“It’s a three-part question. Now answer me!” He scooted closer to the edge of his pool chair, his eyes beaming like an excited puppy.

“Alright fine.” You sighed out your nose as you paused to think. How were you going to phrase this? Your head fell back and your eyes searched the stalactites of the Underworld’s ceiling as if you would find the answer up there. “Well, after the Titanomachy in Thessaly, my sisters and I had to divide up the earth into kingdoms we could rule. There were three distinct realms: the sky, the sea, and the Underworld. None of us could agree who would get to choose first, we all wanted to go second or third because we were generous that way, so we decided to draw straws for our pick. As the myths pointed out, I pulled the shortest straw even though I was the eldest. Carol got to go first, she picked the sky. Nat was next, she wanted the sea. And I got left with the Underworld.

“But, I wasn’t unhappy. Actually, I had kinda wanted it despite the negative reputation it had and I was glad to get the kingdom. I just… I felt like I had to be down here to guard my father and welcome the spirits to the Underworld. I’d spent most of my childhood and adolescence alone, and I didn’t want to leave the spirits like that. Not that Nat or Carol would’ve done a bad job being Queen of the Underworld or anything, but they’d never been alone like I was. Natasha had me in Kronos’ stomach and Carol had the nymphs. I had no one for over a decade; I knew the isolation, the desperation, and the terror of being utterly alone and I swore that no one would ever feel that again, least of all when they went into the unknown. Death is the greatest unknown you could think of and I refused to let the souls of the deceased experience what I did when they died.

“Sure I could’ve been Queen of the gods, but I felt like I was needed more down here.” 

Bucky listened to your explanation with steely intrigue, ready to hear the entire answer. His face was stone as he listened, betraying no emotion until you finished. As the last syllables left your lips, he frowned ever so slightly. “That’s… Surprisingly noble.”

“I’m a surprisingly noble girl,” you teased. “Don’t sound too shocked; you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Oh, Doll.” He pushed off of his chair and began to round the pool over to your side. Sitting down on the chair next to you, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “I’m not shocked. You’re a fantastic person. I should’ve guessed that you chose to stay down here to help people out.”

You let him tug you, pulling your knees to your chest so you could curl up to him. You rested one hand on his chest and pressed your ear to the spot right above his heart. Closing your eyes, you could feel yourself getting cozy in his warmth. “Mmm. Thanks, Buck.”

A deep chuckle rumbled out of his chest. “Oh, don’t thank me. You’re going to hate me in a second or two.”

“What? Why?” You peeled yourself from him ever so slightly so you could peer up at him.

He was smirking down at you, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Because I’m about to do this.” Tightening his arm around your shoulder, he reached over your lap and pulled your legs onto his. Hooking his elbow beneath your knees, he stood up with you in his arms.

You shrieked as you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold yourself steady. “Bucky! What are you doing! Put me down!” A laugh tore through your squeals.

“Nope!” He carried you over to the pool and stopped right at the edge. 

With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you knew exactly what he was going to do. You turned up to him with panicked eyes. “Bucky! No, don’t!”

Of course, he didn’t listen to you. “Bombs away!” he shouted right before tossing you into the water below.

A scream pierced the air, followed by a satisfying splash as you sank into the deep end of the pool. You turned in the water towards the surface, peeling your eyes open to glare at him. You could still see him standing on the edge through the rippling water.

He took a step back before dashing forward and leaping in. He landed in the water a few feet to your left and grinned at you when he was submerged as well. 

You simply stuck your tongue out at him and began to swim over to the shallow end where you could touch the bottom. Finally, at an acceptable depth, you planted your feet on the stone bottom and pushed up. You gasped for breath as your head broke the surface and you wiped the water away from your eyes.

Bucky popped up just seconds later, laughing with glee.

You turned to him and cried out, “You’re such a jerk!” Your laugh ended with a sharp glare in his direction and you splashed the water at him.

He brought his arms up to shield his eyes but continued to wade closer to you until your bodies were practically touching. His arms encircled your waist as they pulled you closer so your chests were pressed together. You expected him to be laughing with you, but his laughter had died and his gaze was deadly serious, causing a shift in the air. “(y/n)?” he breathed out gently.

You shoved down a lump that had started to rise in your chest. “Y-Yeah?”

His arms tightened around you, eyes boring into your very soul. He let one arm fall from your waist to hold the back of your neck and leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips and the sensation made your stomach flip. He took a shuddering breath and whispered, “You’re the love of my life; you know that, right?”

Your breath hitched and your mouth fell open. For a single moment, the world stopped. 

_You’re the love of my life._

You could not believe your ears. He’d just admitted that he loved you. And not just that he loved you, but that you were the love of his life. You stared at him, words finally coming out of your mouth as you said, “You… You couldn’t possibly know that. Your life has been so short.”

“Doesn’t matter.” His hand moved to the junction at your neck and jaw, his thumb wiping water droplets from your skin. “I still know that you’re it for me, and there’s no one I’d rather be with.”

Your mind was swimming. Your heart was pounding. You were painfully aware of every spot his skin touched yours. But, through all this stimulation, you couldn’t help but feel really, truly happy. Glee filled your entire being—from the top of your head to the tips of your toes—but there was still a touch of uncertainty lying beneath the surface. “Even if I’m just some goddess of the dead?” you asked, your voice no louder than a hushed whisper.

“Doll, you’re more than that.” His eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners as he smiled. “You’re a queen, and I am just a man that is so lucky to have you.”

You giggled and a smile settled on your lips as well. “Oh, Bucky…”

He paused, seemingly debating something over in his head. “Can I… Can I kiss you?”

He was asking permission… And here you thought you couldn’t fall for him anymore. 

You pressed your lips together and nodded softly. “Yes, James.”

He chuckled at you using his first name and wasted no time in placing his lips on yours.

You’d had first kisses before—a nymph when you were less than 300 years old, a human boy one night when you ventured out into the Mortal World for a break and had just a bit too much to drink, and Brock—but none of them were like this. Those had all been rushed, feverish, nothing but a spur of the moment passion, but this was slow, tender, a way to convey love without words. 

Your arms snaked up around his neck, pulling him down further so you wouldn’t have to stretch so much to reach him.

He was more than happy to comply, the hand that was on the small of your back pulling up and lifting your feet off the bottom of the pool. 

You gasped slightly as he picked you up, but you didn’t pull away. You felt him lifting you so your hips were level with his and automatically wrapped your legs around his waist. You buried your fingers in the hair on the back of his head, tugging them ever so slightly.

A low moan passed through his lips as he pulled away for a quick breath. “That’s not fair,” he mumbled before kissing you again.

You smiled into him and mumbled, “I’m not fair,” against his mouth. You kept your eyes shut, losing yourself to the feeling of your body against his, letting yourself just live in the moment. For a while, nothing else mattered; you had your Bucky and he had you and all you knew was his body. 

But even gods must breathe.

You held onto him for as long as you could, but you pulled away when you finally couldn’t take it anymore. You tore your lips from his and leaned forward. Your forehead fell on his shoulder, resting in the dip created by his collar bone. You felt his arms tighten around your waist and your face fell into what could be described only as peace. “Gods… That was…”

“Spectacular?” His chin rested in the crook of your neck and he tilted his chin down to press a gentle kiss to the soft and tender spot where your neck met your shoulders.

You inhaled sharply at the sensation. It was purely sinful. “That’s one word for it.” You held him closer, flexing your legs around his waist. Thank the gods you were in the pool which made you lighter; you didn’t want to be too heavy for him (though, if you were being honest, Bucky was a god and could probably hold you as easily as he held a flower). You smirked into him. “James Buchanan Barnes, you just kissed the Queen of the Underworld. What would your mother say if she saw us like this?”

He barked a laugh. “Gods, she’d probably have a heart attack. Or our heads. Probably both. But I don’t want to care about that right now. I just want you.”

_I just want you_.

Red started to cloak the edges of your vision and a low rumble made its home in your chest. “Be careful what you wish for, James. You might bite off more than you can handle.” You pulled back ever so slightly to look at him, your eyes undoubtedly turning red now.

He stared back, his own eyes darkening with something foreign on his features. “I’m sure I can handle you, Doll. You don’t have to hold back with me. I want you—all of you. Let me in.” His lips swallowed your answer as he kissed you again, taking small steps forward towards the edge of the pool. 

You gladly let him. Forgetting the world around you, you kissed him like it was the only thing giving you life. And, suddenly, you weren’t in the pool anymore. Your back hit a wall behind you and you squeaked in surprise. You pulled your lips from Bucky’s and looked around you. You almost laughed when you saw your surroundings.

Bucky’s eyes trailed over the walls, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips. “Did you seriously just teleport us to your bedroom?”

You bit your lip to hide your smile. “I think I accidentally did.” You looked down and shook your head. “I think my powers got ahead of us. Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” His eyes were still dark, but they were now touched with a hint of reassurance.

“You don’t… You don’t think we’re moving too fast?” You glanced down at your bodies that were flushed together, held apart only by thin swimsuits.

He seemed puzzled at first, but it didn’t take him long to piece together what you meant. His cheeks tinted red but he shook his head. “No, I don’t. I said I want all of you, and I meant it. Whenever you’re ready, I will be too.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that moved onto your lips and you leaned forward to kiss him again. Tingles ran throughout your body at every point you made contact with him. Warmth pooled in your stomach and you couldn’t help but know that this felt good and that this whole thing was good. Bucky made you feel good. Bucky made you feel loved. Bucky made you want to love in return. Your light sigh ended with a content smile. “Thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank me, Doll. I love you. Now let me show you just how much.”

“With pleasure.” You smiled into him and let him carry you over to your bed, ready to lose the world around you. In those moments, nothing else mattered; not your responsibilities, not your sisters, not even your father. You had your Bucky and you were happy.


	15. Her World is Shaken, Not Stirred

In all the centuries that you’d been at the edge of Tartarus, muttering your spells and securing the cage, you’d never known it to be quiet. But, there you were, doing your routine without so much as a peep from the monster below.

Kronos was silent. He didn’t speak, didn’t laugh, didn’t even breathe loudly. It was out of character for him; usually, he would take any and all opportunities to mock you and get under your skin, but he didn’t even greet you.

You should’ve been thankful that he didn’t distract you, after all these years of struggling to keep your focus, but the silence was eerie and unnerving. But, no matter, you had a job to do and so you were going to do it.

Your voice was powerful and strong as it always was and you cast your spells with an expert tongue. With your repeated and more frequent visits, you could almost speak the enchantments in your sleep. They’d become second nature to you.

You were eager to finish with the day’s enchantments. Although strengthening the cage was an important job, you had to maintain your life outside of Tartarus. One such activity you had to keep up was the weekly brunch with your mother.

As far as you knew, she was on her way at that moment, which should’ve excited you. After all, you loved seeing your mother, especially since she hadn’t been able to make it down last week for brunch. But you were apprehensive instead. Your father was quiet which was not normal at all. Not a single word left his mouth, not even as the last syllables left your lips.

Finally done, you stared down into the pit once more. Your eyes scanned the darkness, desperately searching for something to explain the silence, but you came up with nothing.

As you reluctantly turned your back on the pit and started walking out, you couldn’t help but think to yourself, “Hey, this could be a good thing! He’s quiet, that means that we’ve just bound him tight enough that he doesn’t have any energy to speak.”

You knew that was a long shot at best and that he was probably plotting something, but you’d done all you could for the day. You’d exhausted your magic stores on his extra charms and you’d need a day to recharge before you could do it again. But whatever; you’d just go down and do it again the next day.

The walk out of the cave and through the Meadows to your home was as long as ever. You waded through the souls that milled about the Asphodel Meadows, doing your best to not disturb them as you made your way home. Murmuring polite “excuse me’s,” you turned your eyes up towards the mansion on the mountain to see if your mother had arrived yet. If she had, it was no big deal. You’d given the kitchen spirits enough warning that brunch would be ready the second she arrived. You scanned the windows and, sure enough, a woman moved behind the glass. Your lips twitched up and you quickened your pace a smidge bit. You were eager to see your mother.

It didn’t take you long to scale the mountain to your porch and saunter through the front door. You were greeted with the sweet and savory smell of ambrosia and hashbrowns. Your mouth was watering within seconds and you dived into the house towards your dining room. 

Rhea was already seated in the chair to the right of the head of the table. Her thick brown hair which had the slightest trace of grey from age was tied in a loose bun on the back of her head, held back by hair ties and clips. Her body was adorned with pale lilac nursing scrubs; she must’ve just gotten off of work or was planning on going in for a shift after brunch. She was playing with a golden knife that had been set out, no food on her plate yet despite the numerous platters teeming with brunch foods and ambrosia sitting in the center of the table. She had a lazy smile on her face, she was in no rush, ready to wait as long as she needed for her eldest child to arrive.

When she heard your footsteps, she looked up from her knife and grinned warmly. “Hey, little one.”

Instantly you were put at ease, your mother’s calming aura filling you with warmth and peace. “Hey, Mom.”

She stood to embrace you, wrapping her arms around your torso in a tight hug as you approached. “I’m so sorry I had to cancel last week; the hospital was short-staffed and I couldn’t get away.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I understand. Believe me, things have been hectic enough down here in the Underworld that I was probably going to have to cancel anyways. You just beat me to it.” You chuckled as you pulled back and took your spot at the head of the table. “How have things been? You said they were busy”

She sat down again and pulled her napkin off the table to set in her lap as she said, “Well, you know how it is. I’ve been hailed as one of the best labor and delivery nurses in the state because every case I work on, even if they have little to no chance of being successful, always goes smoothly. Hospitals all over the surrounding area are giving me offers to work with them. The hospitals I’m working with now are booking me as much as they legally can. Just this week, I’m working eight-hour shifts every day at three different hospitals.”

You had to suppress an eye roll as you began to shovel food from the platters onto your own plate, making sure to give yourself a healthy dose of hashbrowns and ambrosia. “Gee,” you started, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I wonder why your deliveries go so well. It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’re the titaness of motherhood and ease, now would it?”

She scoffed.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you don’t need to sleep nor eat.” You jabbed your fork into the hashbrowns in front of you and lifted it to your lips. You chewed and swallowed with some reluctance. They tasted off this morning—a little sour and bitter. You scrunched up your nose as you forced it down and took a drink of your water to deal with the aftertaste. 

“No,” your mother said looking down at her food, “but it is a guilty pleasure of mine”. She was eyeing the ambrosia squares on the table and eagerly reached for them. “Food is one of the simple pleasures I enjoy in life.”

You watched as she bit into one and bobbed your head. “Yeah, I know.”

She munched on the square, waiting until she’d finished before speaking again. “Anyways, enough about me. You said that things have been hectic down here? What’s going on?”

Your tired sigh ended with an equally tired smile. “Lot’s of things, Mom, lots of things. Work is piling up, the spirits are getting rowdy, and Father is—”

“Your father?” she asked, her voice suddenly tense and rigid. Her utensils froze in place and she turned her head to face you. “What’s going on with him?”

“Nothing yet, but that’s what I’m afraid of.” You briefly told her how he’d been the most talkative person you knew for so long and then shut completely up today. You hung your head and let out an exasperated sigh. “The spirits are getting restless, almost as if something is coming. I don’t know, Mom. I just have this bad feeling in my stomach like a storm is brewing.” 

Rhea clenched and unclenched her fists over and over again, pondering over your claims. Her eyes were dark and serious, more so than you’d seen them in a long time. Finally, she let out a gentle breath and said, “I’m sure it’s nothing, my dear. Just a feeling.” Her words were reassuring but her tone was still doubtful. It was almost like she was trying to convince herself as well as you that her words were true. She turned her gaze down and continued to eat.

You did the same and a stiff silence fell over the table. You weren’t sure what you could say to relieve the tension so you said nothing at all. You just ate, letting your mother soak in the information you had just given. 

She seemed to be lost in her own world for a bit and you let her stay there for as long as she needed. You were just content to sit in her company. After all, you and your mother were at that point in your relationship where you didn’t have to be talking to spend quality time together. You’d spent many brunches not even saying a word, and you were okay with this one being the same.

You didn’t mind it, especially since you were going to be able to get in your daily dosage of socialization after she left.

Bucky was coming over yet again. He said over the phone that he had something to give to you but he wouldn’t discern what it was. It’d been so long since you’d gotten a present of any sorts that even the thought of getting this small one made you excited. You basically trembled with anticipation as you theorized about what he had gotten you. You would’ve liked to say you had an idea of sorts, but that would’ve been a lie; Bucky was so unpredictable sometimes that you never knew what he was going to do or what he was going to bring. One time, last week, he said he had a small gift for Cerberus. You thought he meant like a dog treat or something. He meant a giant tennis ball that was bigger than your head. Where he’d even found it, you had no idea, but Cerberus and his three heads loved the thing.

You snickered slightly at the thought of the giant dog scampering across the Asphodel Meadows as he chased after it, trampling disgruntled spirits underfoot.

“What’re you thinking about?” your mother asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

You blinked and sat up straighter. “Oh, nothing.”

She glanced at you sideways, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards in a knowing smirk. “Come on, (y/n), I know you better than that. Tell me.” 

“It’s nothing, Mom,” you said again, trying to brush the subject off.

She hummed and continued to look at you, taking a few moments of silence before asking, “Does he make you happy?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your mouth fell open. “Huh?”

Rhea gave you a knowing smile and elaborated saying, “The boy you’re seeing; does he make you happy?”

How the fuck did she know you were seeing someone? You’d told her it was nothing!

As if reading your mind, or perhaps your boggled expression, she just chuckled and folded her hands on the table. “My dear, I know you well enough to know when something good is happening in your life and, based on the smell of cologne that lingers in the air and that dreamy look on your face, it’s not hard to figure out that it’s a boy that’s making you all lovely.” She smiled softly. “I don’t need to know anything about him, I just need to know that he makes you happy.” Her brows knit together as she looked at you, her eyes searching your face.

You paused for a bit before clearing your throat and saying, “Bucky, he… He makes me happier than I’ve been in a long time. Even with all this chaos going on, I still know that he’s there for me and I can just be myself around him. He puts up with all my queenly shit and keeps me on my toes. And he’s persistent as fu— As hell.” You lowered your gaze self-consciously. You weren’t supposed to cuss in front of your mom. “He’s kind and considerate and always looks out for me. He just wants me to be happy, and I…”

“You love him,” she finished for you, her smile only widening and growing softer.

She really had a way of knowing, didn’t she? You nodded your head, a smile pulling at your lips. “Yeah, I really do, Mom.”

“Then he has my blessing; not that you guys needed it in the first place. You’re a grown woman; you can make your own decisions by now, including who you date.” She leaned back in her chair. “But Bucky though… Bucky as in Winnifred’s kid?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up. “Yeah… That’s the one.”

She snorted. “And how did his mother take that one? I thought she hated you.”

“Oh, well, you see, she doesn’t actually know yet, I don’t think.” Your shoulders shot up and your lips pressed together in a shrug. “It’s just a technicality…”

“Uh-huh. A technicality that’s probably going to burn you in the end.” She shook her head. “I won’t be the one to spill the beans, but you’re probably going to want to tell his mother soon. She won’t take kindly to it at first, but then again there’s nothing she can really do about it. You two are consenting deities and you are older and more powerful than she is, so she can’t separate you. But just be prepared for the shit storm she’ll unleash.”

“Oh, I will be.” You dreaded the day that Winnifred found out about yours and Bucky’s relationship, but you also knew that your mother was right; she couldn’t keep you apart. It was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless. 

“Good.” She inhaled sharply before pushing out her chair and rising to her feet. “Well, I had probably best be going now. Celia will have my head if I’m late for my shift.” She chuckled and pushed in her chair. “Same time next week?”

“Always.” You stood with her and let her cross the table to your side before walking her towards the front door. You turned the knob and yanked it open, startling the person behind it.

Bucky jumped back a foot, letting out a yelp of surprise. His fist had been poised to knock on the door right as you’d opened it and his eyes were wide. He clutched a small box he’d been holding close to his chest tighter as quickly distanced himself from the door.

You stared at him. Holy shit, you hadn’t even heard him come down. Shows just how much attention you paid to detail. “Bucky!” you greeted, your voice rising with the syllables. “You’re early!”

“Y-Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you.” His gaze flickered between you and your mother. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Oh, no, I was just leaving.” Rhea smiled graciously down at him, her eyes filled with a knowing shine. She turned back to you and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you later, love. Don’t work too hard!”

“I won’t. Love you!” You waved at her as she walked out and descended down the mountain. When she had disappeared from your sight, you turned to Bucky with a sheepish smile. “My mother,” you murmured as an explanation. “Come on in.”

He obeyed, glancing back over his shoulder occasionally. “She seems lovely.”

“Oh, she is. She would’ve stayed to talk to you for a bit, but she has work to get to.”

“She works?”

You nodded as you led Bucky towards the living room. In the distance, you could hear spirit servants bustling about in the dining room and cleaning up the mess from brunch. “In the Mortal World, she is a labor and delivery nurse. Has been for—oh—fifteen hundred years, give or take a century or so.” You shrugged. “She started as soon as she knew my sisters and I were capable of ruling on our own and she wasn’t needed anymore. She wanted to be helpful and so she decided to put her talents to use and help deliver mortal babies. She has shifts all this week and had to get back to start them.” You turned around and fell backward onto the plush couch in the middle of the living room. 

Bucky wasted no time in sitting right beside you. “Sounds like fun,” he said turning so he faced you straight on.

“She likes it.” You draped your arm over the side of the couch and pulled your legs up so you sat cross-legged. “Now, to the matter at hand: what did you bring me?” You beamed at him like a child promised a treat which, in a way, you were.

Bucky shook with silent laughter as he shuffled the small box in his hands. “Oh, nothing big.” He held it out to you. “I know you said to not make a big deal out of it or anything, but I figured that since we’re coming up on five months of being together and a year of you dealing with me, I’d do what the mortals do and get you a gift.” When he saw your mouth opening to protest, he held up a hand. “Before you jump on me about it, just know that it’s not an anniversary gift considering it’s not our anniversary yet. It’s more of a, you know, ‘thanks for putting up with me for all this time and for loving me like I love you’ sort of gift.”

You took it from him and bit your lip to hide your smile. “You really didn’t have to get me anything, Buck. Just being with you is gift enough.” 

He only smiled. “Just open it.”

“Okay.” You turned your attention down to the box and pulled off the lid. You turned the box over in your hand and a single object fell into your palm.

A small five-by-seven canvas sat in your hand and two familiar faces smiled up at you: Bucky’s and your own. If you weren’t able to see the individual brush strokes on the canvas, you would’ve sworn that somehow your photograph was taken without you knowing. The image was realistic as could be, capturing even the small, hardly noticeable scars on your skin. In it, you and Bucky were sitting together, his arm wrapped around your waist and your head resting on his shoulder as you smiled at the “camera.” While your eyes were trained ahead, Bucky’s eyes were glancing at you. Somehow the artist had managed to capture the lovesick glint in his blue orbs and the blatant relaxation in your posture. It was incredible.

Your mouth fell agape. “Oh my gods…”

“Steve painted it,” Bucky mused, reaching over and pointing at your faces. “He’s an aspiring artist and when I asked him to paint something for you, he said that I was insane but did it anyway.”

You chuckled. “You are insane. This is amazing! But how did he get a reference for it? You don’t have any pictures of me.”

“Well that’s exactly why I had him paint this. We don’t have any pictures of us and I wanted you to be able to have something to remember me by; just in case you get so busy that you can’t be pulled away from work. He did it by memory and I helped him on the details that were a little fuzzy.” A chuckle escaped his lips. “You really are one of a kind, Doll.”

“Well so are you.” You took the canvas and set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I love it, Buck. I can’t decide if I should put it in my office or in my bedroom.” You hummed. “Maybe the bedroom. That way the first thing I see in the morning is us.”

He laughed. “Aw, Doll, you’re making me feel special.”

“Well, you are special to me. You have been since the day you stole my heart.” You leaned into him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It was too short for your liking, but it was nice enough. A soft sigh rattled out of your lungs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled down at you. “How’ve you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. Everything still going alright?”

“Oh, as alright as they can, I suppose.” You tightened your arms around him. “I’m just… I’m nervous, you know? The cage is almost back to normal, but he was… He was quiet today. My father is never quiet. He talks more than anybody I know and today he was just dead silent. It was unnerving and it scares me.”

“Hey,” he said softly. His hands were on your waist and he pulled you onto his lap so he could hold you better. “Hey,” he said again, “there’s nothing to be scared of. I promise. He’s locked up tight, he’s not getting out. You said so yourself that the cage is almost back to one hundred percent, there’s no way he could get out.”

“But he weakened it before, he can do it again. And, Buck, I just don’t know what I’m going to keep doing if he can do this. I don’t know how he did it. I don’t know who helped him. I don’t know if it’ll happen again, and I…” Your heart was racing and your chest was rising and falling with labored and anxious breaths.

“Shh,” he mumbled as he pulled you in so you were flush against him. One arm stayed wrapped around your torso while the other came up to hold your head. His hand spread out over your cheek, keeping your head tucked under his chin. “It’s going to be okay. You won’t be alone throughout any of it. So, even if he does manage to weaken the cage again, you’ll always have me. I’m not going anywhere. M’kay?”

“Okay.” It made your heart happy to know he would be there, but you had to wonder. “How long?” you asked, your voice just barely above a whisper.

“How long what?” He was understandably confused, but he didn’t move to look at you.

“How long will I have you?” You had to know what he was thinking, how long he was planning on staying, how long until he decided to leave.

He didn’t respond right away, undoubtedly pondering the question himself, but it wasn’t long before he was talking. “You will have me as long as the stars still burn in the sky. You will have me as long as man roams the Mortal World. You will have me as long as Olympus stands. You will have me as long as we both shall live. I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon. I just got you and I’m never letting go.”

You didn’t try to fight the smile as it came to you. “Never?”

“Never ever.”

You hummed and nestled into him. “I like the idea of that. It makes me excited for the future.” 

“The future?” He began to run his fingers through your hair. “What do you want in the future?”

“I want you, I know that for sure.” There was no doubt in your mind that you wanted Bucky to be with you. He made you feel loved in a way you’d never been loved before, cherished in a way you didn’t know was possible, and cared for in every sense of the word. You didn’t know the specifics of what you wanted, but you knew that, now that you had him, you couldn’t imagine your life without Bucky. You may not have known him for a long time, but he was already an important staple in your life. 

Everything just felt right with him, and you found yourself starting to believe that the Fates really had made him for you. There was no other explanation for how fast you’d grown to trust him and had fallen for him. Normal people wouldn’t go down so easy, but you went willingly. You’d never really believed in the idea of soulmates created by the Fates, but now that you’d found yours, you understood what it meant to find your perfect match. While life could still be lived without him, you didn’t want it to be. You never wanted to let him go.

Bucky hummed and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “Anything else?” he asked with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Well, obviously,” you said with a gentle scoff. “I just don’t know what else I want. But, so long as I have you, I think I’ll be happy.”

“I’ll be happy too, so long as I have you, Doll. You make me happy.”

You hummed and leaned in for another kiss, but a crack, louder than anything you had ever heard before, destroyed the silence around you. It split the air, sending a shock through your system. The tremors followed after, shaking the house violently and causing objects to clatter down from surfaces. 

You scrambled off of Bucky and gripped the arm of the couch tightly. Your stomach dropped and your eyes darted to the windows. What was powerful enough to shake a mountain? When the ground steadied again, you shot to your feet and rushed to the window, looking out over your realm desperately. You didn’t know what was happening and it frightened you. You were used to being in control and in the know, but now you were blind. 

Two more cracks sounded from above, but they were familiar. The ceiling of the Underworld opened up and two figures dropped down: one blonde and one redhead, your sisters. You could see them moving quickly across the Asphodel Meadows and you moved to the door to intercept them, Bucky following closely. They were mounting the top steps when you threw open the front door. 

Carol’s eyes were wide with panic. “We felt tremors on Olympus. What’s going on?” 

You opened your mouth to respond but you were cut off by the whooshing of wings. 

Alexander Pierce fell at your feet onto his knees. He kept his head bowed as you, your sisters, and Bucky surrounded him, all your eyes filled with worry. “My queen,” he said addressing you. “I came straight from the Mortal World when I felt the tremors. Th-There’s been a breach in Tartarus.”

Immediately your head snapped towards the cave and your stomach plummeted once more. What you were looking at wasn’t so much a cave anymore. It was a gaping hole in the side of the Underworld.


	16. It’s Way Worse Than She Thought

The stone was cleaved open down the middle like it’d been cut by an ax. The jagged edges came to a peak about a hundred feet above the original top of the cave and shot downwards at steep declining angles so the opening was triangular instead of round. 

You stood at the base of the cave and stared at the tear in the stone, your heart sinking lower and lower in your chest as the crushing reality of the situation sank in.. “No…” you whispered, your voice cracking. “No, this isn’t possible! I was just here! I just got done with the spells!” Your chest rose and fell in rapid succession, your hands raked through your hair, and your legs quivered. “There’s no way! I was here less than two hours ago! It’s not—“

“My queen,” Pierce said cutting off your rambling, his voice filled with concern. “You need to calm down. Please sit.” He took your hand and led you over to one of the boulders that had fallen from the opening. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

You could only nod as you stared up at the crack, it’s length exceeding your line of sight as it soared up into the darkness of the Underworld’s ceiling.

Something had made the wall split. Something had broken Tartarus, making it stand agape. Something had breached the most dangerous part of your realm. 

Carol slunk towards the cave, coming to a stop right at the entrance. Slowly she reached forward and rested her hand against the stone. Her hand had barely touched the surface when she yanked it away. The color drained from her face as she stared at it aghast. “It’s coated with him,” she spat, glaring at the stone with venom in her eyes. “And not just him… There’s something indiscernible here. He’s not working alone.”

Natasha took a step forward. “You mean…?”

No! you wanted to cry out. You wanted to tell her that it couldn’t be possible. No one was allowed near the cave. No one had been put under his influence; you’d made sure of that. And yet there you were, staring at the ugly face of your reality. Kronos had done significant damage to the outermost layer of his cage—the entrance of Tartarus—and, if Carol was right, he hadn’t done it alone. 

“I don’t know what I mean,” Carol admitted.

You did. There was a traitor in your midst.

Pierce reappeared at your side moments later, holding the promised glass of water. He helped your trembling hand grasp it and bring it up to your lips. 

You drank the whole thing. On a normal day, it would’ve been refreshing, but now it did nothing but leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Satisfied that you’d drunk the whole thing, Pierce took the glass and stepped back. “My queen,” he said addressing you, “what are my orders?”

You stared up at him, thankful that he was taking the initiative even if you were shellshocked. “I… I need you to…” Gods, you couldn’t even form a sentence you were so rattled. You swallowed thickly, rolling your shoulders back. “I need you to secure the Underworld. Close the gates. This is a total lockdown situation. No one enters or leaves without my permission.”

He said nothing but bowed low. His wings unfolded from his back and he was up in the air in a blink of an eye, ready to carry out your orders.

Bucky used this time to find a seat on the boulder right beside you. He grabbed your hand and pulled it over to rest in his lap to pet it as an attempt to calm your shaking. 

You squeezed his hands tightly, your knuckles growing white with the effort. 

Carol spun on her heel to look at you, her eyes demanding. “(y/n), I need you to tell me everything that’s happened today. Don’t leave out a single detail.”

You obeyed, slightly relieved that your youngest sister was Queen of the gods and not you. She was commanding and you were more than happy to do as directed in situations like this. 

You told her how you’d woken and immediately went to charm the cage and Kronos was silent for once. And although the silence unnerved you at the time, it never could’ve foreshadowed this. From the cave, you went straight home for brunch and Bucky came by after. “We were just sitting together when the quake happened. I… I never saw it coming. I should’ve…” You hung your head. “It was my job to keep the cage secure and I…” You didn’t want to say that you’d failed, but you had no other word for what had led you to this moment.

Natasha rushed over and put her hand on your shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong, (y/n). The cave is split, but if the cage was really and truly broken, then Kronos would be out here unleashing all sorts of hell. There’s still hope.” She turned her gaze back to the opening and pressed her lips together. “Carol… We have to…”

“I know,” she said, her shoulders rolling back and her chin tiling up. “We have to call the council.” Carol looked at you, her eyes hard as steel. “You and Bucky are coming with. You were the ones here when it happened, you need to testify.”

Your heart sank.

The “council,” as it was known, was a gathering of the twelve Olympians and yourself, only called when something earth-shattering or incredibly urgent arose (which, if you were being honest with yourself, defined this event). Your sisters and you sat at the head of the table with Carol front and center, you to her right, and Natasha to her left. From there, you were joined by Maria, Tony and his wife Pepper, Clint, the twin gods Wanda and Pietro, Thor and his brother Loki, Valkyrie, and, of course, Winnifred. 

It was the last member of that list that made you nervous. Winnifred was nowhere near as powerful as you. You were the first goddess, you’d been around for centuries longer than she and you had an entire army of the undead at your will. She was simply a second-generation goddess, given domain over the harvest, but she was the mother of the man you were dating and she hated you. While she had no control over you or your actions, she did have some influence over Bucky. She was his mother, after all, and she hated you with every fiber of her being. She couldn’t control her son’s actions, but you didn’t want to irrevocably damage his relationship with her.

You were close to your mother; you didn’t want to be the reason why Bucky wasn’t close with his.

If she was to be there—which she undoubtedly was—she’d be seeing you and Bucky together for the first time. You could only imagine how well that would go over with her.

As if sensing your thoughts, Bucky squeezed your hand and glanced at you. His eyes mirrored the worry you felt. You couldn’t read minds, but you had a feeling his thoughts matched yours; he was scared she’d flip, and you didn’t need to deal with her on top of the current situation. You’d been hoping to break the news to her gently, give her time to just accept it.

Welp, looks like it would be tearing off a bandaid with this one.

You took what felt like the millionth deep breath and sat up. “Alright. Just… Give me one second.” You had to leave a message for Peggy and Pierce. In your quick absence, as much as you loathed to do it, you would be sending Peggy to the cave to do the most damage control she physically could and you would be having Pierce guard the borders. No one would escape past him. You held out your hands and closed your eyes. Channeling your wishes and your messages, power coursed through your arms until they came to a rest at your palm and small balls of red fire formed. They hovered above your skin as they transcribed the message and finally floated off into the distance, each going off to find their respective recipient. With them on their way, you looked back to your sisters and nodded. “Okay, we’re ready.”

———

Olympus wasn’t as it normally was. The streets weren’t bustling with gods and spirits. The atmosphere was haunted and cold. The shops were empty and doors and windows were locked up tight. Things littered the ground and things were knocked over; various bits of evidence that something had shaken the earth up there and caused people to panic.

You knew the earthquake was bad, but you hadn’t realized just how much it had affected the rest of the realms.

Carol had already summoned the council; you could see the ten gods bustling outside the palace at the top of the mountain. 

With every step you took towards it, you felt like you were only sealing your doom. You were scared to be seen with Bucky. You were scared that you would taint his reputation with the Olympians. You were scared that they’d renounce him. It was a ridiculous thing to fret about, considering the current situation and all, but it was also one of the only two things on your mind (aside from your father and Tartarus, of course). Your feet felt like steel weights had been glued to the bottom, holding you down and only growing heavier with every step. You squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, how you wished this was only a sick dream—that you could just open your eyes and you’d be in Bucky’s arms, happy, safe, and secure. But it wasn’t. This was reality, and you had to stare it in its ugly face.

Bucky slowed with you, matching your pace step for step. Your hands were still intertwined and he used that to pull you into his side as he finally stopped. He took a step to the side so he was standing right in front of you and brought his free hand up to your cheek. His rough, calloused skin cradled your face and he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. “Hey,” he whispered in a voice too tender for words. “It’s going to be okay.” Whether he was talking about your father or his mother, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter to his next words. “We’re going to do this together. You and me against it all; I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You pushed up on your toes to press your forehead to his and let out a trembling breath. You didn’t know how it was going to be okay. Nothing seemed to be okay. But his words did comfort you, and you suddenly felt like you could face the world. You were already strong alone, but now you had him and he helped you be stronger. With him with you, the possibilities were limitless. “Okay,” you finally whispered after a bit. “Then let’s go.” You squeezed his hand softly and pulled back, letting both of you fall back in line as you climbed the steep mountain to the palace.

Most of the other gods had already filed in, filling the main room and taking their seats on their thrones at the table. Each god had one to match their personality and their domain so that there would be no debate on which throne belonged to a god; even you had a throne, although you weren’t technically a part of the Olympians. 

Your sleek black throne sat to the right of your sister’s. Where Maria, your beloved sister-in-law, usually sat, a new throne had been erected. It was temporary, of course, but there was no doubt that it was Bucky’s. The flowers on the armrests made that painfully clear. 

The gods continued to talk amongst themselves as you and Bucky entered last, your hands still tightly interwoven as if they were glued together. None paid you any attention; none except Winnifred.

It was as if she sensed Bucky’s entrance. She was his mother after all; she probably had some sort of mother-sense that alerted her to her child’s presence. As soon as he took a single step into the throne room, her head snapped to the side to look at him. In a matter of mere seconds her face flashed through about 4 different expressions: shock, confusion, realization, and finally rage as her eyes landed on your interlocked hands. Her face turned beet red and steam would’ve been shooting from her ears if this were a cartoon. 

You glanced sideways at Bucky, receiving only a nod from him, before tugging him by the hand over to your thrones. This was not your first council meeting; you knew the drill. You marched right past Winnifred, paying her no mind. There was something much more pressing than her petty anger and displeasure at hand and it had to take precedence. She could wait. You finally reached your thrones and sat down in yours.

Bucky took his and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

You didn’t know if it was because his mother was in the room or if it was because he wasn’t used to being in the council, but you reached over and placed your hand on top of his regardless. Your dead color contrasted with his perfectly, and your cold fingers trailed over his skin. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “You don’t have to talk, you’re just here as another witness. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered back, turning his hand over so his palm was up. He curled his fingers into you, gripping your hand softly. 

It was then that Carol mounted the head of the table. Standing in front of her golden throne, she cleared her throat. “Everyone, please take your seats.” She stared out over the twelve gods assembled beneath her and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for having to call you all here so suddenly, but there has been a disturbance. I assume you all felt the earthquake this morning?”

“Yeah,” said Tony, who sat just down the line from you. “Pep and I were having lunch. What the hell happened? It had to have been bad if it shook Olympus.”

The others gathered murmured in agreement, their voices hushed.

“It was,” Carol affirmed. “Tartarus has been breached.”

As you’d expected, that simple sentence caused an uproar. At once the gods were tense and alert. Some drew their weapons.

Clint was the first to speak. Having dealt with you and the Underworld before, he knew what that meant. His face was pale and his posture rigid. “But that means your father—”

“Has grown stronger,” you affirmed. “This morning the cave’s entrance was been cleaned open. We’re not entirely sure how much damage has been dealt, but we’re working on repairing it already.”

“If you’re repairing it, then why are we here?” asked Pietro, his thick accent coming through. He was a younger god, just a bit older than Bucky but not by much. He was visibly puzzled, not understanding the severity of the situation, but you weren’t surprised; he hadn’t even been dreamt of when the first Titanomachy took place. 

“The repairs are nothing but a bandaid,” you said, your voice taking on a grave atmosphere. “Kronos has somehow severely damaged the cage once, what’s to say he won’t do it again. He’s hellbent on destroying us; he tells me so every single time. He’s powerful and dangerous. Even in the cage, he has managed to corrupt deities.” Peggy’s haunted eyes from all those centuries ago flashed through your mind and you shuddered. “He is a legit threat and we cannot allow him to break out.”

“But if he breaks out, then we can just defeat him again, right?” asked Thor. The god of war was seated towards the far end of the table and staring at you, his eyes hopeful. The man was smart and kind, but he thought that every problem could be solved with fists and fighting. He was grinning. “You fought him millennia ago and won! It should be a piece of cake.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Thor,” you hissed. “Kronos has been stewing for all those millennia, biding his time to escape and end us. If he’s breaking out now, it’s because he’s powerful enough to do so, or had help from someone who could do it with him. We would hardly stand a chance.”

“But the last war we fought—”

“The last war we fought nearly destroyed the world and took ten years!” you snapped, your vision flickering with red. Why was it so hard for them to understand? You rose to your feet glowering at the gods. “We don’t have ten goddamn years this time! The mortals have come so far, and a war of that magnitude would send them back to the stone ages. We need to put an end to this now.”

“Well, we wouldn’t need to put an end to this if you had done your fucking job! Isn’t it your responsibility to keep his cage secure?” Winnifred shouted from her spot at the table, cutting you and everyone else off with a withering glare. It was the first she’d spoken since the calling of the council and it surprised everyone into silence. “You’re the Queen of the Underworld, keeping his prison secure is your job! Or have you been distracted as of late?” Her voice dripped with malice, the hatred going unmasked in her eyes. She was glaring at you and her son having put two and two together. She wasn’t an idiot after all, after seeing you two together, you figured it wouldn’t have been hard to deduce that there was something going on between you, that to your side was the place he’d been escaping so frequently. 

Bucky looked down the table at her, his eyebrows knitted together. “Mother, please.”

“No, Bucky,” you said standing up straighter and glaring down at his mother. “It is true that I have been a bit preoccupied. Not that anyone of you would care, but for once I’ve actually decided to do something for myself and find happiness in a relationship. I have found someone among you who hasn’t treated me like a disease and who has become very dear to my heart, and I have spent some time with him as a partner and not just some unfeeling monster. And, as many of you do, I have balanced that with my responsibilities. I have never once missed a week in which I would go down to face my demons and strengthen his cage and I have even put my life on hold to increase the frequency. I have been punctual and consistent, never asking for help. And now that something that is beyond my control has gone wrong, you want to point fingers and put the blame all on me.” You spoke more to Winnifred when you said that last bit, but it was true nonetheless.

Red coated your vision ever so slightly as you glared down at the gods. “I have never once faltered in my duties, keeping you safe in silence. Now, I fear that something is happening, and I don’t know what it is, but I know that if we stand divided, then this something will end us!”

“(y/n),” murmured Carol, reaching up to place her hand on your forearm. “Be still; it’s okay.”

You calmed a bit at your sister’s touch, but not by much. Though the red dimmed in your eyes, the world continued to stay tinted with the color. You continued to stare at Winnifred as you reluctantly sat in your throne. You could still feel your blood boiling, but it was cooled ever so slightly by the hand that reached over and settled atop yours.

Bucky gave your hand a gentle squeeze, holding it atop your armrest. He kept his eyes at the center of the table, but you know he was just trying to help. You appreciated him very much. 

You let out a quiet breath, exhaling through your nose, and squeezed him back. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. 

Carol took over from there, explaining your theory that Kronos was not working alone. After all, the cave was split open and you had been monitoring Kronos’ power. He wasn’t nearly strong enough to actually do that. So that meant that someone was working for him. Of course, this also caused a nervous uproar, but Carol was quick to calm them. Instead of letting them panic, she gave them orders. First to help repair the cave the best they were able or to send their underlings down to help and second to keep an eye out for suspicious activity and prepare themselves for war. 

They were simple tasks but they left the gods with something to do and with a direction to go in which made them happy. 

The gods dispersed, opting to return to their respective realms to carry out their orders. 

You were left alone by your throne with Bucky. It was just the two of you, the throne room was silent. You sucked in a deep breath and looked at the man beside you. “I… I think that went well. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, though you didn’t need me there.” He smiled softly. “Will we go back to the Underworld?”

“Yes. I left Peggy and Alexander down there alone; they’ll probably be needing me back.” You shrugged. “I’ve got to help them with damage control.” Your head ached at just the thought of it. “I’ll probably exhaust my magic stores for the week, but if it keeps him trapped it’ll be worth it.” You rolled your neck with a grimace. “Are you coming with me or are you going back to your meadow?”

“I’m coming with you. My magic may not be the strongest, but I’ll do all in my power to help you out.” His eyes were kind as they looked at you. “As I said, you won’t be alone.”

“Thank you, Bucky.”

He nodded and smiled, but that smile was short-lived. His eyes were drawn to a point beyond your shoulder and locked on something behind you. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout a warning but you were quicker. 

You whirled around on your heel, ready to see what was coming, but you weren’t quite fast enough. 

Winnifred had appeared behind you, her hand raised and poised to strike. As soon as you were facing her, her open hand came rushing through the air, aimed directly at your face.

As the sound of a crack shattered the silence, Bucky cried out in shock. “Mother!” he shrieked as he rushed to your side, reaching up to cup your reddening cheek.

You shoved his hand away, your nerves alight with pain and your head bowed for only a moment from the impact. Fire built in the core of your chest, red as rage, and your eyes filled with a color to match it. She’d _hit_ you; you, the _original_ goddess and her superior in every way. You lifted your head, slow and menacing, and your lips pulled back into a snarl as you glowered at her. “How. Dare. You,” you hissed in a voice as cold as the Underworld itself. 

“How dare I? How dare you!” She was angry, and that anger seemed to be a shield that kept her from realizing just how much she’d pissed you off or what you could do about it. 

You didn’t know if she realized that you could smite her right then and there if you wanted; your weapon, after all, was one of the three that could kill other gods.

However, she carried on, not letting a second pass before she spoke again. “You are a slut, a filthy whore! The river naiad wasn’t enough for you? You needed a god to satisfy you?” Her lips curled back. “And who do you choose to prey on but my innocent son? You’ve corrupted him and lied to him and now you’ve kept him under a spell to keep him close to you!” Her claims were irrational, but she wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise to put her straight. “Well, I won’t have it! You endanger my son by keeping him around you! Death does nothing but bite at your heels and I refuse to let him be one of your casualties! You’re going to get him killed if you keep him with you! He’s so blinded by you that he doesn’t see that you’re leading him to his doom! You can’t take him like this. He’s a boy, he doesn’t know any better. You will only get him killed if you allow him to follow you. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

“Mother!” Bucky begged again. “Stop it!”

“I will not!” she thundered.

You knew she wasn’t lying. She’d already screamed enough to cause a scene, and there was no doubt that every creature within ten yards had heard her. Some of the lesser Olympians were cowering away, doing their best to stay out of it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your sisters beginning to rush to your aide. You simply held up a hand to stop them. 

They obeyed. While they too were queens, they knew better than to disobey you at times like this. If you said you could handle it, you would. Your ability to command even the queen of the gods herself was enough to demonstrate the power you held in your own right.

You continued to glower down at Winnifred, rolling your shoulders back. “Winnifred,” you boomed, your voice low and threatening. “I will not tolerate these accusations in the house of my sister. I will not tolerate the lies you speak of me and my intentions. And I will _not_ tolerate you laying your hands upon me.” You stood up straighter and the room darkened. Your hands opened at your sides, calling forth the darkness that lurked in the corners of the room. With power coursing through your veins, you were downright terrifying. The air itself quivered at your presence, the taint of death and raw power causing even it to bend to your will. Your hand rose up, your bident materializing out of the darkness to fill your grip, and your eyes glowed brighter, the red casting a ghastly glow over the woman before you. “You think that you are equal to me; you are sorely mistaken. I am (y/n), Queen of the Underworld, the first god. You are nothing to me but an insignificant pest. I could have you put to death for even the slightest attack against me; you are at my mercy always.” Every god was, but none of them had ever pissed you off enough to warrant extortion of your power; until her.

Winnifred only then seemed to comprehend the power you held over her. Never once had you exerted it, but now she had assaulted you and given you reason to threaten her. You could see the moment it dawned on her that your threats had sustenance in her face; her eyes grew wide, her skin as devoid of life as yours, and her jaw slack with something you recognized all too well: terror. she was terrified.

And rightfully so. You were the last goddess to mess with. 

You could’ve killed her right then and there to make a point, to stick to your ground, but something tugged at your heart. One look at Bucky made you realize exactly what it was. 

He was looking at you with fear in his eyes too and you knew exactly why: he was scared that you might kill his mother in front of him. 

And it was in that second that you knew you never would kill her.

Though the woman had slighted you, offended you, and struck you—all things that would normally get one killed—she was still the mother of the man you loved and you could never put him through that pain. You knew the pain of losing a parent all too well, and it was something you would never inflict upon a loved one, least of all Bucky.

And so, still staring at the woman before you who seemed to think that these next few moments were her last ones alive, you put down your weapon. The air at once grew lighter and brighter as you let your rage disperse. “You are lucky I care about your son too much to do harm to you,” you spat as you let your eyes die down too, returning them to their normal shade. They flickered to Bucky and you spared him as soft a smile as you could manage. “If it were not for him, you would be suffering the consequences of your actions, but I am feeling merciful today.” Your eyes hardened once more as you looked down at her. “Now, do not test my self-restraint anymore. Leave.”

Given the word, she vanished, teleporting away, leaving nothing but wisps of wheat behind. 

When she was gone, Bucky rushed over to your side and wrapped his arms around you. He burrowed his nose into the crook of your neck and took a shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he whispered softly, his voice trembling.

You hugged him back, but your mind wasn’t on him. Even though she was gone, Winnifred’s words still lingered in your thoughts.

_He’s so blinded by you that he doesn’t see that you’re leading him to his doom!_

That part… That part sounded oh so true. He was naive, blinded by his love.

Thinking hard on it, you couldn’t remember a single time he’d expressed independence around you. Everything up to this point had been for the both of you. He promised you he’d always be there, ready to support you unconditionally and stay by your side.

_He’s a boy, he doesn’t know any better._

You’d told him the same thing months ago, telling him that he couldn’t possibly know that he loved you. But he’d been so sure of it, so sure of his love that he waved you off. And you let him. You let him endanger himself by staying with you. You let him put himself in harm’s way.

_You will only get him killed if you allow him to follow you. _

He would get hurt with you, you were sure of it. The world was not kind to you. The world was not kind to anyone. He would be hurt or worse around you. 

_Do you really want his blood on your hands?_

“(y/n)?”

Your head snapped up and you came face to face with his concerned eyes. At once you saw something you never wished to see again.

You saw Bucky, bruised and bloody. Golden ichor dripped from a gaping head wound. It coated his face and matted his hair. Thin lines of the gold ran from his mouth and ears in rivers, glowing sickly in a dim light. His eyes… His eyes were the most haunting part of all. Where they normally shone with life, they were dim, vacant, dead.

This, you realized, was the future for him if he stayed with you, stayed by your side. Winnifred was right. You would only get him killed, especially with the war you knew was coming. If he stayed with you, he’d die. But… If you sent him away… He might stand a chance.

In that one second, your heart sank. You knew what you had to do. It scared you, hurt you, and made you want to throw up, but—gods—it had to be done. You couldn’t risk his safety. You couldn’t risk his life. You loved him too much to let him die.

“(y/n)?” Bucky called again. “Are you okay? You look… Paler than usual.”

Your voice wouldn’t work. It was stuck in your throat like a lead balloon. It didn’t want to say what you had to. It didn’t want to say the words and make them real.

“(y/n),” he tried once more, “talk to me.”

You finally brought your head up and stared at him, your eyes full with pain, and you said, “She was right.” The words were hollow coming from your mouth

“What?” He was visibly confused and you couldn’t blame him. You’d be confused too.”Who was right?”

You brought your eyes up to meet his, the effort alone becoming strenuous. “Your… Your mother was right. We… Bucky we’re not good for each other. I’m not good for you. You’re only going to get hurt. I can’t do that to you.” 

His brows furrowed. “What? No. (y/n), my mother knows nothing about us or about you. She doesn’t know that you’re the best thing to happen to me.”

“But what if I’m not, Buck? What if she’s right? I’m the goddess of the dead; death follows wherever I go. It’s only a matter of time before it catches up with you too.” You didn’t know how you couldn’t see it before. It was so obvious! Especially with recent events.

If you were right, and you normally were, a war was coming—another Titanomachy to be exact. Gods against titans once more. Kronos was growing stronger; the battle was almost inevitable. You weren’t stupid enough to be blind to that.

But, with every war came casualties. You couldn’t allow yourself to be distracted by trying to protect Bucky. You knew he’d chase you to the ends of the earth to be with you, even if the ends of the earth was the battlefield itself. You couldn’t let that happen. You had to send him away before it was too late. You knew he would follow you otherwise. You couldn’t let him. You couldn’t let him get hurt because of you.

“It won’t,” he said to reassure you, but he didn’t know that it was futile. Your mind had been made.

Your voice cracked as you said, “It will. It’s just a matter of when.” You knew what you had to do, you just wished it wasn’t so. How was it that not even twenty-four hours ago you were wrapped in each others’ arms and now you were having to send him away?

He seemed to have a vague understanding of what you were saying and he didn’t like it one bit. His stare hardened and his eyes grew desperate. “(y/n), please don’t say that. We can work this out.”

“No, we can’t.” You were taking slow steps away from him, trying to garner as much distance as you could. It hurt to be near him. Every muscle in your body ached and moaned with pain. “It can’t be worked out. Go, Bucky. Go away. Get as far away from me as you possibly can. I’m not good for you.” You were biting back tears as your heart sped up in your chest. It thundered against your ribs with the words.

But Bucky wasn’t going to give up that easily. “(y/n), whatever this is, we’re going to do it together.” He reached forward and took your hand in his. “I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere and I meant it. I’m with you until—”

You wrenched your hand from his, cutting him off. “No, Bucky!” you snapped. “I said, ‘no!’ Go away. We can’t be together. I don’t want you with me anymore.”

He looked like you just smacked hIm in the face, which, you supposed, you did in a way. “Wh-What? But you just said—”

“I know what I said,” you moaned. You turned your head from him, unable to look him in the eye.. “I cannot have you near me. It will only get you killed. I don’t want you, Bucky! I don’t know why I ever thought I could have you!”

“(y/n), _please_,” he begged, his blue eyes welling with tears. “My mother knows nothing. We can get through this together.”

“Bucky, please. Just go away, leave me alone. I’m not good for you!”

“But you love me.” He glared at you, his posture and power matching your own. “And you want me.”

Your mouth went dry before you spat, “No I don’t.” The words surprised you as they left your mouth. ‘_No I don’t’ what? Love you? Want you? _Both were blatant lies, but you couldn’t let him know that. You had to keep him safe. You bit your lip, using the pain to keep the angry tears blocked behind your eyes.

He stopped, his gaze hardening. You knew then that he thought you meant the former: _I don’t love you._ He stared you down. “Then tell me, (y/n). Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t love me, that it’s over, and I will believe you.” You could see that he didn’t think you would, he believed he had you trapped between a rock and a hard place and that you would break and say that you didn’t mean it.

But he never could have predicted how desperate you were to get him away from you, how desperate you were to protect him even if it destroyed both your hearts in the process nor how far you were willing to go to keep him safe.

Heat and pressure built up in your core, rising up through your ribs to your stomach and your heart, trapping them with their iron fists. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you shoved it, along with the tears that were threatening to spill, back down. Your voice was raw, pained, feverish, when you forced out, “I… I don’t love you.” Saying the words, your whole world came crashing down. Saying them, you saw the light—that light that you loved so much—die in Bucky’s eyes.

You could feel your heart shatter as his face crumbled with sadness, anger, and devastation before finally falling away to nothing. His expression was stone, he refused to show you weakness, especially after you so ruthlessly took the heart he’d given you and smashed it. His lips formed a hard line and he nodded. And then he was gone, leaving nothing but the faint scent of flowers in his wake and taking your heart away with him. 

Your lips parted in a silent scream as the dams you had so hastily built came crashing down. Your heart ached, the heat and pressure becoming too much for it. Your hands clawed your chest, your legs buckled underneath you, and you fell to your knees. 

Natasha was the first to your side, her hand coming to rest on your back as she cried out your name.

But you couldn’t hear her. All you could hear was a ringing in your ears, accompanied by the sobs of your heart. You had never known so much pain before. Your body was simultaneously on fire and being stabbed with thousands of knives. Your muscles cried out in pain and your bones shrieked with misery. And suddenly your silent sobs were given a voice. The scream that tore itself from your throat was more than a scream of heartbreak, it was one of utter agony. Your body convulsed on the ground and you doubled over, coughing violently, expelling fat drops of golden ichor from your lungs.

And it was only then, staring at the gold that littered the ground, that you even thought to consider that the pain you were feeling was not from heartbreak alone. But you didn’t have time to ponder on it.

Your vision turned black at the edges and darkness crept in as you continued to cough up ichor. Up and up it came until you had no strength to stay upright. The world lurched sideways, your head pounded, and all you could hear were your sisters’ desperate cries for help as you fell into nothing.


	17. He Feels His Heart Break

_I don’t love you. _

_I don’t love you. _

_I don’t love you. _

Those four words repeated over and over again in his head like a sadistic mantra. 

_I don’t love you. _

_I don’t love you. _

_I don’t love you. _

He could hear her voice painfully clear in his head. She’d said them, she’d meant them. He never thought it was possible. Did all their time together mean nothing to her? Did she just take him for granted?

He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. He loved her. He loved her with all his being. He’d shown her that over and over again. She’d been nothing but the same to him, fooling him into thinking she loved him back but, if he thought hard enough, he could never recall her actually saying those three words back.

_I love you._

She’d never said it, she’d never meant it.

He didn’t know what her aim was, but now he didn’t really care.

He was too busy licking festering wounds to care.

His heart hurt every second of every day. He’d honestly thought she was the one for him. He’d never felt that way about anyone before, and he’d really thought she was the perfect match. Around her, he felt loved and cherished, more so than he had by anyone else. Around her he felt powerful, amazing. Around her, he could be himself, she didn’t mind. She was good to him, witty and sarcastic maybe, but good nonetheless. She always had his best interests at mind and was always willing to let him speak with her about anything and everything.

He’d always thought she loved him. She kissed him like she did, held him like she did, loved him like she did. He could feel the affection in her touch, feel the adoration in her words, see the love in her eyes.

But he’d been wrong. 

She didn’t love him, she said so herself.

Bucky was… Inconsolable to say the least. It was a good thing that the gods didn’t really need to eat mortal food to survive because he refused to take even a single bite.

His mother believed he was overreacting, but then again she hadn’t seen just what (y/n) meant to him.

Steve and Sam knew all too well. They’d been there every step of the way. They’d seen how different (y/n) had made him and how much happier he had been when he started seeing her. They’d been there for his talks about how she was real with him, and they’d seen just how in love with her he was.

They’d also seen how she was with Bucky, and Steve had talked with Peggy briefly about the subject. He refused to believe that (y/n) would say she didn’t love Bucky when she clearly did.

But none of them pretended to know the goddess’ motives. None of them could fathom her reasoning.

The coming of spring took up most of the young god’s time. It was an exhaustive process that demanded most of his energy. Calling forth trees and flowers was what he was good at. Bringing the warm winds of change was a blessing. 

But this year’s spring would not prove to be as beautiful as before for it reflected his solemn sadness and represented his loss of love. 

Late in the night, when he wasn’t conjuring new life, Bucky was looking up at the stars, his mind a million miles beneath the ground. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what (y/n) was doing. Was she thinking of him too? Had she completely forgotten him? He didn’t know, and he was too afraid to reach out and see. So many times he’d been close to calling her, but every time he chickened out before he could press the “call” button. He couldn’t call her, not after how she’d told him to stay away. And so he just prayed to whatever deity would listen to him that she would call him first. 

But days passed. Then weeks. And then finally months until two whole ones had come and gone.

She wasn’t going to call.

He realized that after week two. 

If she was going to call she would’ve by then.

But Bucky didn’t lose hope. 

He held out all through the agonizing third and fourth week, continuing to sleep next to his phone just in case she did call him.

But still nothing.

It was by week five that he just gave it up. He had to accept what had happened no matter how badly it stung. No matter how horribly it hurt, it had happened and nothing was going to change that. 

A small stone hung heavy in his pocket and he found himself taking it out time after time again to look at it. It was the ruby she’d thrown at him so long ago. Even though it was as big as a pebble, it might as well have been a boulder. The weight of the ruby held him down, striking his heart with pain because it only made him think of her. 

He wanted to throw it away, to just chuck it off the edge of a cliff and rid himself of the gemstone. 

But he couldn’t. And so, back into the pocket it went. 

At the beginning of week six is when he decided to try and heal. It was then that he realized that he’d have to move on with his life. He had godly responsibilities (although those were few and far between) to attend to and friends to hang out with. He could get on fine without her. He didn’t have any other choice.

She continued to lurk in the back of his mind, a constant painful reminder of what he’d had and what he’d lost, all during that time, but it wasn’t until the end of the second month that he really thought of her again.

It was one of those nights where he just couldn’t sleep and could only stare up at the stars and, like an intruder in the dead of night, thoughts of her crept to the front of his mind.

At once he found himself wishing that he knew why she had said those things. Wished he had stayed longer. Wished he had talked to her. He longed to know what was running through her mind when she sent him away, but he realized that he might never get the chance.

Oh, (y/n)… He couldn’t imagine why she’d leave him. Just earlier that day they’d talked about how they were going to stick it out together, get through it and come out on the other side. What possibly could have changed her mind?

He didn’t know, he had no way of knowing, but he did know that every time he thought about it his heart just ached and ached and ached. He’d given it to her, and she’d destroyed it.

A phone—his phone—ringing pulled him from his thoughts and he reluctantly rolled over to look at it. He glanced at the caller ID and his breath stopped in his throat. 

_(y/n)_

With trembling limbs, he reached out to grab the phone and carefully pressed “answer.” Tears welled up in his eyes as he took a shaky breath. For a moment, he thought that her calling was nothing but a dream, but he called out nonetheless, “(y/n)?”

“Bucky.”

A frown tugged at his lips. That wasn’t (y/n)’s voice. It was her best friend’s.

“Peggy?” Bucky asked, his heart hammering against his chest as he sat up.

She didn’t confirm nor deny, but he could tell it was her. Peggy let out a relieved laugh as she whimpered, “Oh, thank the gods… I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.”

“Peggy?” Bucky asked again, his brows furrowing. “What’s going on? Where’s (y/n)?” Why was Peggy calling him from her phone?

“It’s not good, Bucky,” Peggy stammered. She sounded frazzled and panicked. Her voice was trembling. “(y/n)… She’s… She’s dying.”

The world stopped in that instant. It was so sudden that Bucky wasn’t even sure how to process it right away. His breath froze in his lungs. He couldn’t take a breath. He couldn’t move. 

“She… She needs you, Buck,” the woman said, her voice getting choked up and cracking. “Please. Please come see her. I don’t… I don’t know if you’ll get the chance again.”

Bucky forced himself to his feet and reached into his pocket where he always kept the leather pouch (y/n) had given him so long ago. “I… I’m planting a seed now.” He pulled the tiny object from the pouch and tossed it down onto the ground beneath him. As it opened and swallowed him, he found himself praying to any higher power that would listen that he wasn’t too late.


	18. Though Mighty, She Falls

In all your millennia, you’d never actually thought about death. Sure you were surrounded by it every single day, but you never pondered what it meant to die—to cease to live. Death was nothing but a term to you. It meant that another soul would be joining your kingdom. It meant that a mortal’s life had ended. It had no place in your life. And yet… Now it seemed that you were staring your own death right in the face.

The spirits in Elysium had all described it in different ways. Some said it was peaceful—a sweet release from life. Others said it was the worst pain they’d ever experienced—an excruciating way to go.

You had never known such pain before. Your body was alight with angry fires. Your limbs hurt at the slightest of movements. You were always parched, your mouth never moistening. It hurt to breathe. Every ragged breath you drew in lead to a round of severe coughing. The air in your lungs was tainted gold. Ichor flowed freely from the corners of your mouth, running down your chin in thin rivers. 

You’d been poisoned. 

It was the only diagnosis Pietro could come up with. Natasha and Carol had dragged him down to the Underworld after they and Peggy got you laid up in your bed. Though he was reluctant to venture down under as it was, he did his job well. As the god of medicine and stuff like that he was the only one capable of figuring out what had ailed you. “She’s been poisoned,” he said, pulling his hands away from your head and chest. He’d done his assessment, letting his magic flow through you through the two entry points, and that was the only explanation he could come up with. 

“But you can cure her, right?” Natasha’s voice had been desperate, begging. She feared for you when she saw you collapse in the throne room. You, her strong, older sister, had never once caught a cold, and you had suddenly started throwing up ichor. She was terrified; it was a strong poison if it could cripple a goddess such as yourself so much. 

Pietro has hung his head before delivering the harsh news. “I can’t… I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s old magic, old poison. I didn’t even know that it still existed. I don’t know of anything that would heal her… I’m sorry.”

No cure; no choice other than to wait it out, let the poison run its course, and pray that you would recover. 

He’d left you with some medicine that might alleviate the pain and make you more comfortable, but that was all he could do. 

There was no hope for an immediate recovery, you knew that much when you looked into Pietro’s eyes. They had been full of pity, of sadness, like he was looking at a woman who was already dead and just didn’t know it yet. 

Your sisters were optimistic, setting off on a fool’s quest to find you a cure. Just because Pietro had never heard of one didn’t mean that it didn’t exist. He was a newer god, after all, and so he didn’t know everything. There was always a chance that there was something as old as the poison itself that could act as the cure.

You, however, knew better. You’d seen enough death and pain yourself to know that chances were this was not going to end well. 

And so, after the first week, you began to make arrangements for your absence. It had to be done anyways, after all. It would be a long time before you recovered if you did at all. The Underworld would still run, but you wouldn’t be able to do it. You barely had the strength to sit up without help, how could you have the strength to run a kingdom?

So while your mother, your sisters, and Peggy took turns watching over you and helping you do basic human things, you divided up the responsibilities of the kingdom.

Peggy, bless her heart, took over the paperwork you had to do. All the Elysium applications and the renovations and other paperwork went through her. She’d shadowed you enough to know how to do it. When she wasn’t nursing you or helping you do basic things, she was down in the office trudging through the endless mountains. 

Pierce, helpful as ever, volunteered to lead the reconstruction efforts on Tartarus, directing gods and other beings on how to contribute, and take over the more official, executive aspects of the Underworld. Being the god of Death, Pierce had taken it upon himself a millennia ago to learn the way you ran things. Aside from Peggy, and obviously yourself, he was the only one fit to rule in your stead. While Peggy was managing the admin side of the Underworld, Pierce took over the engineering and execution of all other functions. 

Together, the two of them completely filled your role, leaving you with the peace of mind necessary to get better and recover. 

Though after the third week of pain, it didn’t look like you ever would. 

Natasha and Carol told you not to think like that, but you knew. You knew how death worked. You knew how death felt. You knew that the chances of you pulling out of this were slim to none. It was only a matter of time now.

———

“Mrs. Thomas from Elysium called again.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say.”

Peggy shrugged as she took a seat on the chair that had been set up at your bedside. “Oh, you know. Just calling to ask how you’ve been doing, wondering if she can bring you over her famous soup. She’s certain it will help you get better.”

You croaked a laugh, the breath stinging your chapped lips. “She always thinks food will solve everything.” Your eyes followed Peggy as she sat down, looking at the bowl she held in her hands. “If we can get me to keep food down, maybe take her up on that offer. I miss her cooking.”

She only smiled as she reached into the bowl. From it she pulled a damp washcloth. The white was vibrant in the darkened room as she wrung it out, letting the excess water fall. She reached over and began dabbing your face with the cloth. “I’ll be sure to do that then.”

You closed your eyes under the cool surface. It was a welcome relief from the constant fire you felt. One of the downfalls of this whole poisoning thing was the fever that came along with it. In all the three weeks of the pain, the fever had never once broken. If you were mortal, the constant heat would’ve boiled your brain by now. But, being immortal, it only caused you severe discomfort and the occasional delusions. The chill of the cold cloth was refreshing and it drew a shuddering sigh from your lips. “Thanks, Peggy.”

“Of course.” She continued to move the cloth across your face, letting it rest the most on your forehead. When it warmed she dipped it back into the ice-cold water and repeated her movements. 

It was soothing—just a bit of comfort from the pain you were in constantly. You let out a shuddering breath as you sank deeper into your bed. Your chest rose and fell with labored breaths. It was getting harder and harder to breathe with every passing day. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before you couldn’t breathe at all.

As if sensing your doubtful thoughts, Peggy’s hand stilled. “You’re going to be alright. I know it. Your sisters are searching for a cure and Pietro is getting everything he can think of.”

You didn’t want to point out to her that just yesterday he was almost out of ideas. You simply nodded. “Alright…” you rasped out. Carefully you inhaled sharply, letting the air scratch at your lungs. “But let’s not discuss that right now. Tell me how things are going. How’s my kingdom?”

Being laid up, you never got to go out and see how things were going for yourself. You had to rely heavily on Peggy and Pierce’s reports. You were paranoid. You’d never been away from the throne for that long and not having your hand in the workings of the Underworld made you anxious.

Peggy hummed. “It’s recovering. The Tartarus breech really did a number on things, but we’re rebuilding. Elysium renovations are going smoothly. The crack in the wall is almost fully filled. Pierce is doing well.” 

“Then why do you sound uneasy?”

She blinked, surprised by your question, but you hadn’t missed the hint of malice and skepticism in her voice when she spoke of Pierce. Something was wrong, you knew it. 

“What’s he doing?” You locked your eyes on her face, doing your best to read her expression.

Her brows furrowed and she tilted her chin down. Her expression was confused and she was confused by her own confusion. “He… He’s doing well, almost too well. (y/n), I can’t explain it, but the way he’s acting whenever he goes out to the cave… It’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s like he’s already had everything planned out. He’s doing too well, and it’s giving me this bad feeling.”

“You’ve tested him?”

“Of course I have. He’s not being controlled—not by Kronos or anyone else for that matter. He’s completely in his own mind.” 

You licked your lips and gazed up at the ceiling. “Have you been down to the cave? To inspect his work?”

“No. I haven’t had the time to. Between keeping you alive and dealing with paperwork, I haven’t been able to.” She sighed heavily and dunked the washcloth into the ice water once more. Setting it on your forehead, she said, “But I will soon; cast a spell or two of my own to help. Do anything to make sure your father stays locked up in your absence.”

You nodded your head. “Thank you, Pegs. This is why you’re my second in command.” Your smile was weak as you grinned at her, but it was there and meaningful.

She laughed at that and shook her head. “I’m not sure that that’s the only reason why, but I’ll take it.” She sighed. “How have you been feeling?”

“Oh, shitty as ever. But hey, you’ll be proud of me. I’ve only thrown up ichor once today.”

“That’s progress!” Her eyes brightened with hope.

“Yeah… Progress…” You didn’t want to tell her that that one episode had lasted nearly a half-hour as you lay hunched over the side of the bed expelling what little you’d eaten that morning from your stomach and some more ichor with it. Your tired sigh ended with a half-hearted smile. “I’m tired now, Pegs,” you said softly.

She pulled the cloth away from your forehead. “Would you like me to leave you to rest?”

You barely moved your head in a nod. “Please.”

“Alright.” Her chair scraped the ground as she pushed it back and stood. “I’ll be down in the office working. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

The sound of her footsteps echoed in the room, growing fainter and fainter until they were nothing. You were left in silence once more. It settled heavy on the room, enveloping you in the cocoon of solitude. You used to hate the silence, but now it was welcome. Even sick, you rarely had a moment to yourself. Everyone was always scared you’d die if you were left alone for even one second. There was almost always someone by your side. 

It was overwhelming.

But you almost preferred the company. It kept your mind busy and away from unpleasant thoughts about your impending demise.

Though no one around you wanted to admit it, you knew it to be true: you were dying and there was nothing that could be done about it. It was a depressing thought, really. You didn’t want to die, but it didn’t look like you had much of a choice. 

You were going to die, and that was just the way of things. 

And that was…

Honestly, not okay with you. But the pain was just mind-numbing. Sure the medicine that Pietro prescribed for you helped ease it a bit, but it would always return with a vengeance. Nearly a month of this had sapped out all the strength and magic you had, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could take it all.

But you chose not to dwell on it. You couldn’t. It would only just kill you faster.

Approaching footsteps broke the silence, tearing you from your thoughts of dying and the partial-slumber it had been lulling you into. 

Your face screwed up at the disturbance, but you didn’t open your eyes. “Peggy?” you called out, the hoarseness of your voice surprising even you. “Did you need something?”

A chuckle was your answer. “It’s not Peggy, Precious.”

At his voice, your eyes snapped open. “Brock,” you croaked, trying to muscle your way into a sitting position. You couldn’t see him when you were reclined and you refused to be prone in his presence. You hadn’t seen him since you’d sent him away all those months ago, and that conversation had been left on severely rocky terms. You’d told him to leave, ending things between you pretty harshly. You couldn’t believe your ears when you heard his voice and so you had to see him for yourself. But to do that, you had to sit up.

You didn’t get too far. The pain in your chest and abdomen flared with the movement and you cried out in agony.

Brock was at your side in an instant, his hands pushing down on your shoulders ever so gently to ease you back against the pillows.. “Shh, Precious,” he murmured softly. “Stay down, it’s okay.”

Reluctantly, you obeyed. Gods, you wanted to sit up and berate him for ever showing his face in your home again, but you weren’t strong enough to do so. So you settled for just glaring at him. “Why are you here?” you hissed in a low voice. “I thought I told you to never show your face again.”

“You did not say that, Precious,” he said, his voice was gentle and kind. “You told me to leave, you didn’t tell me to never come back.” When you were situated on the pillows again, he set one of his large hands on your forehead and brushed back your hair.

“That still meant leave,” you spat. You looked up at him, your eyes narrowing. “Why have you come? How did you get past Peggy?”

“I have my ways. You forget I used to frequent this room without anyone knowing I was ever here. I know how to get in undetected.” With that, he sat down in the chair Peggy had been sitting in not even an hour ago. He pulled his palm from your forehead and reached for your hand which was lying at your side. You were too tired to move it, so he laced your fingers together. “I’m here to see you, Precious. I heard you were sick, but I— I never imagined…” His voice broke as he looked at your face. You could only imagine how horrible you looked.

“You’re not welcome here anymore, Brock,” you growled. “You should leave.”

“No, not until you hear me out.”

“Th-There’s nothing left for me to hear! I told you to leave.”

“Precious—”

“And stop calling me that!” You yanked your hand out of his grasp and glared daggers at him. “I’m not your precious anymore. You have no right to come in here and call me terms of endearment like we’re still… Like we’re still together! You don’t have that privilege anymore and I want you—” Your lungs were arrested by a fit of coughing and your body convulsed. Pain wracked your body as you hacked and coughed, trying to expel the insatiable itch in your throat. You coughed into your hands, cupping them at your mouth to catch the ichor that was thrown from your lungs so they didn’t land on the covers.

Brock rubbed small circles over your back as if that would help ease the pain or the coughing. “Shh, just get it out.”

You wanted to curse his name, banish him from your home for forever, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the energy to. When you finished coughing, you sat back against the pillows. Your hands were stained gold with your own ichor and it hurt to breathe.

He helped you get back the best he could, being nothing but gentle with your fragile body. He handled you like you were made of glass; like you could shatter at any second. When you were settled once more, he took his hand off of you and hung his head. “Please, Precious. I needed to come back; to apologize if nothing else. Please just hear me out.” His voice was desperate and soft; he was scared of what you would say.

You didn’t want to even give him the time of day, but because you were basically a captive audience, you really had no choice. You sneered at him down your nose but nodded your head. “You’ve got two minutes.”

“Thank you.” He inhaled sharply before he said, “I’m sorry for everything I ever did—or didn’t do—to you. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just scared of what you wanted. I thought that, if I committed myself to you, you would grow tired of me and leave or that I would lose myself in the process. I wasn’t ready for that.”

“But you are now?” You scoffed. “It’s a little late for that, Rumlow. You broke my heart too many times and I found someone who wouldn’t.”

_Bucky…_

Gods, you hadn’t thought about Bucky in weeks. Now, whether that was intentional or accidental, you weren’t sure; it had the potential to be both. 

It could’ve been accidental—just something that happened as a result of being preoccupied with poisoning and worrying for your kingdom.

But it could’ve been intentional—a coping mechanism designed to keep your heart from breaking further. Your body had enough to deal with; fighting the poison was taking everything you had, you had no energy to spare to deal with the pain of remembering Bucky’s devastated expression. You couldn’t even think about him without hurting.

As if on cue, pangs of agony struck your heart as his face surfaced in your mind and you fought hard to shove it back down. You couldn’t dwell on him now. He was gone. You’d sent him away. You’d said awful things.

He probably hated you now or at least didn’t love you.

You didn’t know which one hurt worse.

“Ah, yes. The _god of spring._” The words were bitter and his lips curled back in a snarl. “If he loved you so much, why isn’t he at your side? Why isn’t he here taking care of you, searching for a cure for your poison like I am?”

Your eyes must’ve widened in shock because he laughed. “Yes, Precious. I haven’t been at your side these last few weeks because I’ve been searching for the cure.”

“H-How do you even know what’s wrong with me?” Your mouth was agape, though it probably wasn’t hard to guess what had afflicted you. You showcased all the typical signs of poisoning. But he hadn’t been around to see them.

He smiled softly at you. “The water has ears, Precious. Your sisters and your friend are out in the yard talking about it constantly. I have heard it all, and I think I’m this close to coming up with something to help you.”

“Is that why you’ve kept your distance? You didn’t want to come crawling to my side empty-handed?”

“Yes.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. “I didn’t want to come back to you unless I knew I had something to offer you. I know it may have been selfish, but please know that my intentions were nothing but good and pure.” He pressed his lips together as his eyes searched your face. “Please, (y/n), let me prove to you that I really do care for and love you. Let me help you. Let me stay.”

Every fiber of your being screamed “NO,” but you knew that he would argue with you and you had no energy or strength to deal with that. It didn’t mean that you’d let him weasel his way into your bed once more; it just meant that he could maybe pick up a shift in watching over you and give Peggy and your sisters a bit of a break.

Reluctantly you nodded your head. “Alright. You can stay,” you whispered bitterly.

He visibly relaxed, his lips falling into a soft smile and his eyes glistening in the dim light. “Thank you. Don’t worry, Precious.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead, letting them linger there for longer than you liked. 

At one point in life, you would’ve reveled under his touch, but now that you’d had a taste of something different—something better that only Bucky could give you—it only made you cringe and long for the lips you really loved.

He exhaled sharply, letting his breath ghost your skin, before finally pulling away and replacing his lips with his hand. His skin was rough against yours as he pet your head, brushing your hair back. He smiled softly at you, his eyes holding a promise. “I’ll find a way to heal you; I promise I will. You’ll get better.”

———

You got worse.

Brock took over your evening schedule, taking care of your dinner by helping you choke down what little of ambrosia and nectar you could and holding your hair back as you later threw it up and by making sure you could sleep and were clean. He’d talk to you at night, telling you about how the kingdom was doing, how the rivers flowed, how everything was going to be okay.

If you didn’t absolutely loathe the man, you would’ve been grateful for him. He was a calming presence at your side, just talking with you. Not pestering you about cures or technicalities of the kingdom. He just talked about whatever came to mind.

For a while, nothing changed.

But then, a week after Brock came back, you started seizing. 

Carol had been watching you that evening when you suddenly tensed up and blacked out. She said you suddenly went stiff as a board before shaking, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your muscles convulsed. She didn’t know what was going on at first, panicking as you just shook. She was unable to do anything to help you and you had a feeling that that kind of powerlessness made her scared.

Pietro was called right away and he made his entrance right at the end of the seizure as you were coming out of it. 

You were confused and dazed; you didn’t know what was going on and it made you scared. You were tired and sore and your head ached. 

It didn’t take Pietro long to diagnose what had happened.

It had been over a month since you’d been poisoned, and you weren’t able to keep anything down, so Pietro labeled it as a provoked seizure due to low ichor-sugar. With no food or drink able to enter your system, the levels had dropped dangerously low and had triggered the seizure.

And that was when they broke out the IVs and feeding tubes. 

Your mother demanded them; she was growing desperate. While the gods didn’t need to eat to survive, they did need the nutrition to keep internal levels balanced. Such nutrition typically came from ambrosia or nectar, but you couldn’t get either down or keep them in your stomach.

So, if you couldn’t get the nutrition of your own volition, they’d force it in.

The tube and needle were extremely uncomfortable. They’d snaked the feeding tube into your stomach through your nose and you couldn’t move your head without it shifting weirdly. The IV stuck out of the back of your left hand, making it impossible to move it without pulling the needle out or jamming it in further.

You hated it, but it was necessary.

Your body was in desperate need of the nectar and ambrosia; the lack of it was only hurting your health more. 

But even when you were getting the sustenance you needed, you still were not getting better. Your health continued to go downhill gradually until you didn’t even have the strength to lift your hand. Breathing alone was a chore, and it was clear that your days were numbered.

Even your family had to admit it.

You weren’t living; you were surviving and you were barely doing that.

It was only a matter of time before you were out of time.

Brock was at your side, holding onto your hand as he always did, but for once he was silent. His eyes were dark and hooded, his lips were set in a seemingly permanent frown. He was sour, brooding, thinking, and the silence that entailed was driving you mad.

“What’s on your mind?” you croaked out, breaking the silence. Your voice, though the only sound in the room, was hollow and ragged. It wasn’t yours anymore; it was nothing but a harsh ghost blowing away in the wind. 

His brown eyes flickered up to you and his face softened. “Oh, nothing much, love. Just about you.”

“What about me?” You squinted at him, fighting to keep your eyes open. Even that was a struggle now; you were so weighed down by exhaustion that your eyes refused to stay open half the time.

He squeezed your hand gently. “How even when dying you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. I’m sorry that I wasn’t good to you like you deserved. I’m sorry I was stupid and foolish. I’m sorry I ever let you go.”

“Brock…” His apology was sincere and it made you happy and peaceful, but it wasn’t going to change anything. He’d had his chance and, even though the odds said that you would never have your Bucky again, he was never going to have another one. You’d done that game and your death wasn’t going to make you want to play it again. Sure, you were grateful that he was here to help take care of you, but that didn’t entitle him to another shot at your heart. You’d learned your lesson and you were never going to let him in again.

“No, don’t say anything, Precious. I know what you’re going to say but I can’t hear it. Just… Just let me pretend for a moment that I have you back, that you’re mine once more; just for a little bit longer.” He let out a shuddering breath then, bowing his head and resting it on the bed. “Please…”

You stayed silent. You didn’t have the energy to burst his bubble. You closed your eyes as the room fell into silence once more. Maybe you could nap now, but you didn’t want to sleep. All you did anymore was sleep and you were tired of it.

“Rumlow,” called a soft voice in the dark.

You cracked your eyes open to see Peggy standing at the foot of your bed. She was looking down at the man that was sitting beside you, her eyes cold and unfeeling. You hadn’t even heard her come in…

He straightened up, letting go of your hand and standing. “Peggy.”

The woman’s eyes glowed softly in the dim light. “You can go home now,” she said, her voice low so as to not disturb you. “I’ve got her for the night.”

“Are you sure? Really, it’s no trouble for me to stay here and watch her.” You could hear it in his voice that he didn’t want to leave.

“I’m sure. Go home.”

Brock looked like he wanted to resist, but the stare that Peggy was giving him was withering. Eventually, he backed down, lowering his head in submission. “Call me if you need anything,” he mumbled before walking out of your room.

It was just you and Peggy now, and you cracked a weak smile up at her. “You got me?”

At the sound of your voice, she turned her attention to you and grinned. “Yeah, always.” She made her way over to the side of the bed and sat down in the chair that had become a permanent fixture in your room. “How are you doing?”

“Same as always,” you choked out. “I’ll be honest with you, Peggy: I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Your voice cracked as you spoke and your chest rose and fell with labored breaths. “It… It hurts so goddamn much.”

“I know, love. I know.” She reached forward and placed her hand on your forehead, letting it sit there as her eyes fluttered closed. “I know it hurts. I know you’re suffering and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you…” She swallowed heavily and took a shuddering breath. “I think we’re running out of time, (y/n).”

You figured; but it was different hearing it said. It had seemed that there was some unspoken rule that stated that they couldn’t talk about death or how fast you were dying out loud, but now Peggy was breaking that rule and it made the situation that much more real. If everyone was being honest, you had maybe a week left at this rate. It’d been two months and, while you’d put up as much of a fight as you could, you were fighting a losing battle. 

You only nodded your head slowly. “I know we are… I think I’ll be leaving you soon. My mom and sisters don’t want to admit it, but I can feel it. And I can guarantee that if you had Pierce look at me, he’d know that I’m… He’d know that I’m dying.”

Peggy winced as the words were said aloud. Her eyes squeezed shut and her shoulder shuddered. “I don’t want it to be so.”

“But it is so, Peggy; whether we like it or not…” You inhaled sharply through your nose. “Which brings me to another point that neither of us are going to want to talk about, but it has to be done. If— When I die, I want you to take over as Queen of the Underworld.”

“Wh-What?”

“My sisters have their own kingdoms, my mother is retired, and I don’t trust Pierce enough to place him on the throne. You’re the next eligible candidate for the throne, and so I want the crown to pass to you.” You smiled up at her. “You’ll make a fantastic queen.”

She shook her head. “No, no I won’t, (y/n), because you won’t die on us. We can’t let you.”

“Peg, I don’t think you have a choice.” You took another deep breath but this one hurt you and caused you to groan. “I’m sorry.”

Peggy pressed her lips together and stood. “It’s not your fault, love. You should sleep now. I’ve got some things I have to do, alright?”

You were a little saddened that she was leaving you, but you understood. You just dropped a major bomb on her and you would want to get away if you too were in her position. “Alright.” 

She left, leaving you all alone. The room was dark, silent save for the sound of your labored breathing. It was an eerie setting: you in bed—a corpse just barely living—in the dark with only the dim light from outside illuminating the room. If you weren’t stuck there, you’d be running out as fast as possible; but you couldn’t move. You didn’t think you ever would again. 

Your eyes fluttered shut. You took a shallow breath. You clenched and unclenched your hands. 

It’s almost over. It’s fine. It’ll be okay.

So why did your heart hurt so much?

Probably because you were leaving people behind.

That seemed like a common theme in death: it didn’t hurt the person dying, but it killed everyone left behind. You couldn’t help but think of your mother and sisters, of the few gods that had been your friends, of… Of Bucky.

Oh, Bucky. You wouldn’t ever get to apologize to him for hurting him, apologize for not being strong enough to protect him, apologize for not being strong enough to live for him. You just prayed that Peggy would talk to him after it was all said and done. Maybe he could go to your funeral. You’d like that—if he was there for one last goodbye even if you weren’t. Maybe he would forgive you anyways. 

You started to drift to sleep, letting the darkness over take you, when you were disturbed by a sharp breath. Your face contorted in discomfort as you forced your eyes open, ready to chew out whoever had disturbed your sleep, but the air was sucked from your lungs when you saw the figure at the foot of your bed.

Red rimmed the man’s eyes and dark bags sat beneath them. His skin had lost its summer glow. A short stubble had covered his jaw; he hadn’t shaved in a long time. The blue of his irises was obscured by tears welling up in his eyes. His hands, large and worn, gripped your footboard with white knuckles as he stared at you, his lips parted in a saddened gasp. 

Tears welled up in your own eyes as you gasped for the air that had been stolen from your lungs. Your mind must’ve been playing tricks on you; this wasn’t possible. But that didn’t stop you from croaking out, “B-Bucky?”


	19. He Holds Her Close

His heart shattered once more at the sound of her voice; it was so broken, so pained. She choked out his name like she couldn’t believe she was actually seeing him. Her voice was hoarse and strained and her face was contorted in pain. Even those two syllables hurt her.

“B-Bucky?”

She tried to sit up when she saw him, but even he knew that was a bad idea. Her lips parted in a silent gasp as pain undoubtedly wracked her body.

Bucky was rooted to the spot as he stared at the love of his life. He couldn’t move.

In the darkness, he could see that she looked dead.

Her skin had no color; her eyes had lost their light; her hair was dull as dirt; her cheeks had grown sunken; she’d lost a significant amount of weight; her lips were thin and dry to the point of cracking; a tube was taped to the side of her face and disappeared into her nose. She could barely keep her eyes open as she looked at him, tears pooling in her eyes.

His voice trembled when he said, “Yeah, Doll, it’s me.” His eyes were watery and tears of his own were welling up. He was straining to keep his composure, but it wasn’t really working. Seeing her again was… It tore at his heart. 

Bucky should’ve been angry as he looked at her, or hurt or devastated. She’d told him she didn’t love him; that it was all a lie. She’d crushed him for months, made him hurt. He should’ve been angry or sad. But he couldn’t make himself be either of those.

Because, right now, looking at her lifeless in bed, all he felt was a strong sense of love and sadness for her. This wasn’t the woman he’d grown to know and love over a year. That woman was strong and fierce; this one was weak and broken. He could see death looming in the shadows of the room, ready to take her at any second, and it broke his heart. She was defeated and dying; it was only a matter of time.

His breath caught in the back of his throat and he choked out, “Oh, (y/n).” He tore his feet from their spot on the ground and made slow, short steps around the bed. He couldn’t make himself go faster. He had to take it slow for both their sakes.

Her eyes never left him once. She stared at him like she would stare at a ghost. It was like she was trying to convince herself that he was actually there, and it wasn’t until he sat down on the mattress and caused it to dip that she really seemed to believe that he was there again. Feeling his weight on her bed, she let out a choked sob. “Bucky!” she cried again, this time with tears rolling down her face.

He reached out and took her hand which was sitting on top of the covers and lifted it to his mouth. The back of her hand was ice against his lips and he held it there, desperately hoping that the contact would return some life to her. “It’s me,” he said again, hoping to finally reassure her. 

She squeezed his hand weakly, the simple gesture an effort to her. “H-How? Why are you here? I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” Her voice was laced with something he couldn’t quite identify: desperation—yes—sadness—definitely—hopelessness—of course—but there was also something else there. It was almost distraught, devastated, agonized, as if she was crushed by the very thought of never seeing him again.

It made his heart yearn to hold her and tell her that she’d never have to fear that again—that he was never, ever going to leave her side. 

He let out a shaking breath as he shook his head. “Peggy called. She… She said that you were dying. I couldn’t not come.” His eyes traced every inch of her face. “Oh, Doll, please tell me it’s not true. Tell me you aren’t dying.”

Her sad smile was interrupted by violent coughing and she snapped her other hand to her mouth to cover it. Bucky couldn’t help but notice the IV needle sticking out of the back of it or the gold ichor that coated her hand when she pulled it away. “Poison…” she spat when she got her lungs under control once more. “Something old. There’s no cure.”

“How long?”

“Two months… I collapsed right after you left. I’ve been getting worse ever since.”

So that’s why he never heard anything from her…

A sliver of pain shot through Bucky’s heart and he inhaled sharply. “Why didn’t you call me?”

She looked away sadly. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me. I… I hurt you bad, Bucky. I said I didn’t love you. I had to do it.” She visibly winced, her eyes squeezing shut. “I… I had to keep you safe, Bucky. This war is coming. I can’t let you get hurt because of me. Everyone who stays close gets hurt one way or another and I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

“Doll…” He brought her hand up to his lips again. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment, but that is the stupidest logic I think I have ever heard.” He shook his head. “If the war is coming as you say, then I’m going to get hurt one way or another and in no case is it ever your fault. You didn’t have to send me away; there’s no place I would’ve rather been than by your side.”

“But don’t you see? That’s the problem! Bucky, we’ve known each other for just over a year and you’re invested like you’ve known me for a thousand. A single year is like a blink of an eye for me. You don’t know—”

“I know that I’ve been on this earth for 1,385 years, and not one of them has been as happy as the one I just had with you, (y/n).” Bucky’s eyes were soft as he looked down at the woman before him. “I know that I love you with my whole heart. I know that I never want to know a life that you’re not in. I will always know this because I know my feelings and my thoughts. I know that I met you for a reason and I know that it wasn’t an accident that I fell in love with you.”

She didn’t say anything for awhile and she couldn’t meet his eyes. It was like she was ashamed. She hung her head. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. It’s okay. I know it’s a lot, but it’s the truth.” He reached out with his other hand and brushed her hair back, letting his hand linger on her feverish skin. “I would never lie to you about this. I would never toy with your feelings in such a cruel manner.”

She nodded stiffly, her head just barely moving. “I know you do, and I should’ve called, but I… I didn’t think you’d forgive me for… For saying such awful things.”

“Forgive you?” He turned so his whole body was facing her and his brows furrowed deeply. His eyes locked onto hers, filling with all the sincerity he had in his being. “(y/n), I would always forgive you. I will always love you too much to not forgive you.” That much was true. As much as he had tried to forget her—tried to murder his feelings for her—he couldn’t. She would always be in his heart. She would always be the one.

A sad smile overtook her lips. “I guess it’s a shame that I didn’t call you sooner then, huh? Maybe then we could’ve had more time…”

“We will still have time, Doll. You’re not… You can’t die today.”

“And why not?”

He tilted his chin up and smirked down at her. “Because you’re not wearing yellow.”

She was thoroughly confused for about five seconds before she grinned up at him. “I said that the day I wore yellow would be the day I died.”

“That’s right.” A smile split his own lips and he squeezed her hand tighter. “And you aren’t wearing yellow so you are not allowed to die today. You hear?”

She chuckled. “Bucky… I… I don’t think that I have much of a choice. The poison has no cure. We’ve been looking.”

Bucky scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“Bullshit?”

“Yes. I am calling utter bullshit on that. Everything has a cure, and if we can’t find one, we’ll make one.” His voice was growing in volume, in intensity, in determination. “I won’t let you die. You might have made your peace with it, but I haven’t.”

“Bucky, there’s nothing we can do now.” She squeezed her eyes shut. 

“No, I won’t accept that. I’m the god of life; that must count for something. I swear that you’re not going to die so long as I’m here.”

The gears were turning in Bucky’s head. He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit by and watch her die. While she was fine with it, he wasn’t. He’d just gotten her back and he wasn’t going to let her go again. He had to save her. They said she was poisoned with no cure, but maybe he could just heal her—absolve her of all illnesses. He’d never tried it before—using his powers of life on a person—but he figured that if he could make plants come back to life in the springtime or heal them of infection and illnesses, it wasn’t totally inconceivable that he could do the same to a god. The principals and ideas were the same, it shouldn’t be too hard to do. 

“What are you going to do?” she croaked, her eyes searching his face desperately. There was a mixture of uncertainty and doubt in her face. She didn’t believe there was anything he could do.

If he was being honest, he had no idea if it would even work. But he knew he would hate himself forever if he didn’t even try. Bucky cracked a smile at her. “I’m going to make sure you live. Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” 

“Then let me kiss you.”

She didn’t even hesitate when she said, “Alright.”

He wasted no time at all. As soon as he was given the “go”, he bent down to kiss her. Cradling the back of her neck as gently as possible, he pulled her up and his lips met hers.

Their lips moved in perfect sync as Bucky held her close to him. He let his eyes fall shut as his hands touched every inch of her body, desperately trying to suck the deathly chill from her body and replace it with warmth and life. He kissed her like he’d never kissed her before. He kissed her like he was scared of losing her—which he was. He kissed her like he loved her—which he did. He kissed her like he couldn’t live without her—which he couldn’t.

The “kiss of life” took on a new meaning for him at that moment. He’d always associated it with that mortal thing called CPR, but now he was literally trying to kiss the life back into her. Usually, he could heal a plant just by touching it, but he knew he’d have to do more to heal a goddess as far gone as (y/n). Kissing was the only thing he could think of that would convey as much intent and passion as he needed in order to save her. He prayed to whoever was listening that this would work.

He didn’t know what he was going to do if it didn’t.

She gasped when he pulled away for a brief breath of air, the sound as lively as he’d ever heard from her that afternoon and he forced his eyes open to look at her. 

He nearly sobbed with relief.

While she didn’t look _alive_ yet, she looked _better_. The difference was quite visible. A bit of color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes weren’t nearly as dull as they had been seconds ago. Her lips were no longer tinted blue and the gold had melted away from the corners.

He didn’t know how it was possible but he didn’t want to ponder on it for too long. Whatever the Hades he was doing it was working. That was all the reassurance he needed to do it again.

He smashed their lips together as he kissed her, gripping her face and holding her tight with both his hands.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly. He could feel the strength returning to her arms with every passing second. Her grip tightened to the point where she was holding him as tightly as he was holding her. Her breaths were heavier and deeper, no longer shallow and weak. Her skin was retaining the warmth he left behind. Eventually she even sat up, pushing him back until they were both seated and holding each other tightly.

Bucky kissed her until she pushed him away, and when he opened his eyes, he saw his (y/n).

Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at him like he was the only thing in the Underworld. Her lips, now plump and moist, were parted as she gasped for air. She kept him close as she rested her forehead on his shoulder, taking deep and hungry breaths. He had a feeling that these were the first real bits of oxygen she’d gotten in weeks. Her fingers clawed at his shoulder blades and she hugged him then, using him to keep herself up.

He held her, clutching the back of her head and holding her against him. Tears were pickling at his eyes too, completely overwhelmed. He was suddenly exhausted as he held her. Healing her must have drained him, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He was willing to deal with the exhaustion if it meant having her with him.

She let out a strangled sob against his shoulder, but it wasn’t one of agony or pain. All he could hear in her voice was relief. “H-How did you do that?” she cried out, holding him tight.

“I have no idea.” The words came out in between laughs as he turned his face towards her and nuzzled the side of her head. He pulled away slightly and looked her over, his eyes covering every inch of her body. 

Months of pain and sickness had been erased from her just like that and he was in utter awe. It was so miraculous that he couldn’t even believe it himself. The idea was just absurd; and yet there she was. Where she was a living corpse before, she now looked normal, healthy and more alive than she ever had. 

“How about we’re in make-believe land and in make-believe land anything is possible?” he asked, a grin taking over his lips. 

She laughed and the sound was pure music to his ears. He didn’t think he’d ever get to hear her laugh again. “You know what?” she asked, pulling away so she was sitting just inches away from him. Her hand found his cheek and she cupped it ever so tenderly, her eyes shining as she looked at him. Oh, how he loved her eyes. She smiled softly. ”I think that’s just fine. With us, anything is possible.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against his in a gentle kiss.

He kissed her back lovingly, preparing to deepen it to make up for lost time.

But something interrupted them.

Or, more specifically, someone.

They heard the footsteps before someone burst in and they pulled away just as the door slammed open.

“What happened?” demanded Peggy frantically as her head swung on a swivel. “I heard crying.” 

Bucky could see the panic in her eyes and his heart dropped. Peggy rushed in there expecting the worse, her voice dripping with fear. (y/n) really had been so sick that the slightest sound of distress could mean that she’d died. His eyes filled with sympathy. “Look…” he said softly, letting (y/n) go and sitting back.

Peggy’s eyes drifted to her best friend and immediately began to pool with tears. “(y/n)?”

(y/n) bit her lip and nodded her head. “Yeah, Peg. He did it. He saved me.”

Peggy was at the woman’s side in an instant, gripping her just as tightly if not more than Bucky had. “I told you, you idiot! I told you you could be saved!” Sobs were hindering her voice, swallowing the words before they could make it out, but Bucky and (y/n) could understand her just fine.

“That’ll teach me to never doubt you again,” she said with a watery laugh of her own. (y/n) looked at Bucky over Peggy’s shoulder, her eyes filled with gratitude. “He did it. Just like that. I’m not dying any time soon.”

———

The afternoon was filled with gods coming in and out. (y/n)’s sisters and mother were summoned right away and Bucky stood back as the three women all but mauled her. There was sobbing and kissing and hugging as they cried out in relief. 

Bucky may have been absent from her life all during the sickness, but he could only imagine how hard it was on her family. He could see it in the way her family held themselves—with tension and anxiety—and in the way they just broke down when they saw her sitting up in bed and actually eating solid food (even though Bucky and Peggy had both advised against it but (y/n) was “so hungry I am literally about to murder somebody if it’ll get me a decent sandwich”). He could see the pent up pain just melting away as they checked her over for signs of the illness and found nothing and it made his heart happy. They’d suffered too much and he was happy to help.

Her mother, Rhea, had embraced him after she checked her daughter. Tears of joy and appreciation were running down her face as she approached him saying, “Thank you for saving her. I should’ve known you would be the one to, but I cannot thank you enough. I was so scared I was going to lose her, and now thanks to you I won’t have to.” 

He hugged her with open arms, just happy that he did some good.

Although it was pretty clear that (y/n) was healed, Pietro was called down to the Underworld to check. As the god of medicine, he was the only one who could confirm her health for sure. He was down an hour after the healing and he was able to do his assessment quickly. Pulling his hands away from (y/n)’s body, he looked up at the god and goddesses assembled in bewilderment. “She’s cured,” he said looking down at her. “I don’t know how the hell it’s possible, but there’s no trace of the poison running through her veins. She’s healthy again. All her vitals and levels are normal and healthy. It’s like she was never sick in the first place.”

“Does that mean I can take these stupid tubes out?” (y/n) asked, glaring impatiently at the IV in her hand and the tube in her nose.

It took about fifteen minutes to fully unhook her and get the tubes out. When she was finally free, she threw back the covers on her bed and stood up…

…only for her knees to promptly give out and collapse to the floor.

Thank the gods Bucky was quick enough to dive down and catch her.

In all the excitement from the healing, they’d all forgotten that it’d been two months since (y/n) had been out of bed. Her legs weren’t quite used to supporting her weight yet and walking was just one of the things it couldn’t do. 

She wanted to run before she could walk, that much was obvious. She’d been cooped up in her bed so long that she was just dying to stretch her legs and walk around for a bit. 

It was a good thing that gods recovered quickly. Pietro estimated that she’d be able to walk by the end of the day again when her body finally readjusted to being healthy.

Sure enough, just after dinner time, she was up and walking with assistance. Bucky lent her his arm as she walked around on wobbly legs. She looked like a new-born deer: ready to sprawl out at any second. Her sisters had wanted to get her a cane or a walker, but (y/n)—ever the stubborn one—refused. 

“I’ll use Bucky before I use a cane,” she muttered as she linked her arm in his. “I’m two-thousand years old for crying out loud. I’m still young.” 

They spent the evening helping her adjust, and by the time they were done, it was late. Everyone was exhausted from the excitement and chaos of the day. Bucky was about ready to go home when (y/n) took his hand. 

She was sitting on her bed looking healthy but tired. He eyes were pleading as she looked at him. “Stay with me?” The words were soft in the quiet room and Bucky didn’t need to be asked twice. 

At her approval, he lifted the covers and slid into the bed next to her. The night was spent holding each other, healing in one another’s embrace.

———

“I should be going back to work soon.”

“Doll, forty-eight hours ago you were barely clinging to life. I don’t think you have to go to work any time soon.”

(y/n) chuckled and shook her head. “That’s not how being a queen works, Bucky.” She turned her gaze to the side and reached out towards the Asphodel bush beside her.

They were sitting in her secret garden on a little wooden bench right beneath Pom the Pomegranate tree. Upon regaining her legs, (y/n) had all but demanded that Bucky take her back to her garden. She’d said she missed it too much to stay away.

Bucky took her without complaint and they’d been sitting there the whole morning. Most of the time had been spent in silence, but now (y/n) had chosen to break it.

She smiled weakly at him. “Being queen is a never-ending job, Buck. Sure, Peggy and Pierce have been able to handle most of it for me, but that’s because I was sick. I’m better now. There’s shit I have to do.”

“They can handle it for one more day, Doll. Come on…” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into him. “I just got you back. Let me have you for the day. And then I promise that you can do whatever you have to and I will be there to help you the whole time.”

She wanted to give in. Bucky could see it in her eyes and the way they fluttered shut at his touch. He could feel it in the way she relaxed in his arms. But she couldn’t. She shook her head. “Bucky, no. I’ve left the Tartarus reparations to Pierce and I need to go down and see the progress. Last I heard they were working on mending the cave, but there hasn’t been any word about him or the cage. I have to go and see what’s going on.”

He could hear the urgency in her voice, and he understood the need. He too would be freaking out if he had a psycho father who wanted to kill him who, last time he’d heard, was on the verge of breaking out of the most secure prison in the world. He pressed his lips together and sighed. “I know you do.” His sigh was finished with a tired smile. “How about this: we stay here for just a moment longer and then I’ll take you to Tartarus myself. You’re doing fantastic at healing, but you’re still not back to one-hundred percent yet. Let me go to keep you safe, okay?”

She chuckled. “I can protect myself thank you very much. I have scary Underworld powers.”

“Mhmm. And when was the last time you used those?”

She hesitated. “Two months ago.”

“Uh huh. And what if they’re like your legs: weakened because you’re out of practice?”

She scoffed. “My legs are working just fine now, thank you very much.”

“After a whole day of stumbling and falling.”

She shot him a pointed glare. “Those are just details. Besides… I don’t think it works that way.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then. Prove it to me. Show me that your powers are still operating properly.”

She smirked at him and held up her hand. 

Bucky watched expectantly, his eyebrow quirked in a challenge. After a minute of nothing happening, he hummed. “Is something supposed to happen?”

He could see the smirk melting from her face now and her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. “I’m not admitting that you’re right,” she muttered as she crossed her arms in a pout.

“You don’t have to, Doll. I know how badly that would wound your pride.” He turned into her and pressed his lips to the side of her head. “But, speaking logically, it only makes sense that your powers and stuff are still drained. They’re like legs—if you don’t use them for an extended amount of time, you’re bound to lose them.”

A heavy sigh passed through her lips. “I know… I know. I guess I had just hoped.” She shrugged. “Not that I use them much outside of work, but if I have to go to Tartarus, then I want to be prepared to fend for myself.”

“That’s understandable. Don’t worry, Doll, you’ll be up and kicking before you know it. Until then… Just let yourself rest. You can worry about your father tomorrow.”

She hung her head and nodded. “Alright… I suppose I can wait one more day. If he hasn’t escaped by now, we should be fine…” He could see the smile pulling at her lips. “It’ll all be okay.” Taking a deep breath, she looked up. 

And then she stopped.

The smile melted right off of her face and was replaced by a confused frown. Her shoulders tensed up. Her eyes darkened. Nothing about her posture was relaxed, nothing about her was settled. 

Bucky frowned at her sudden change in mannerisms and he sat up straighter. “(y/n)?” 

She didn’t respond. She kept her gaze forward, her frown only deepening.

Bucky followed her gaze all the way across the garden to the entryway at the base of the staircase leading down from the mansion. There, cloaked in the mist that hovered above the ground, stood a figure that Bucky had only seen from a distance. He couldn’t quite make out his face, but from (y/n)’s reaction, he had a pretty good idea as to who he was.

The name that passed through (y/n)’s mouth only confirmed his suspicion.

“Brock?”


	20. She Almost Murders Someone

It was like looking at an elephant in a glass museum: Brock was completely out of place. 

He belonged in a bedroom, between the too thin sheets with his body flush against yours. He belonged at the other end of the long dining table for stoic meals. He belonged by his river, the soft glow highlighting the blue tint in his flesh and making him ghostly and hauntingly beautiful. He belonged in places of passion and secrecy.

He did not belong in your garden—in your most secret and secure place where you felt most at peace. 

There was a reason you’d never brought him here; a reason it’d never been shared. He didn’t deserve to know about your garden.

But how did he know? How was he here now? How did he know you were here?

You stared at him, your eyes tracing over every single one of his features, and, immediately, you knew that something was wrong. 

He was tense, overly so. He trembled with something you couldn’t identify and his eyes were glowing with anger and confusion. The blue in his skin was more pronounced, causing the veins in his face to look like rivers running beneath his skin. His lips were pulled back in a snarl as he glared at you and Bucky sitting beside each other. His shoulders rose and fell with strained breaths.

“Brock?” you called again, rising to your feet. Your legs were only slightly wobbly—unease left over from the sickness. Gods healed quickly, and while your body was almost back to full operations, you still had a little bit of progress left to make.

Bucky’s hand found your waist to hold you steady, refusing to let you fall. “Careful, (y/n),” he whispered. He looked up at you but didn’t say anything more. However, the message was clear in his eyes. Be careful.

You set your hand on top of his in acknowledgment and turned your gaze back to the naiad. “Brock, are you okay?” Slowly you took shaky steps toward him. They were agonizingly slow, but they were what you could muster on your own. Besides, anything faster and Brock would probably freak. 

He was like an easily startled animal, ready to run or pounce at any given second or at even the slightest of movements. It frightened you.

His fingers curled into fists and he stared at you. “It was supposed to be me,” he whispered, his voice just barely a ghost in the wind.

“What was supposed to be you?” 

“The person that healed you. It was supposed to be me.” His eyes all but glowed with rage as he glared past you at Bucky who had also risen from the bench and was now standing a yard behind you. “You just couldn’t stay away. You couldn’t mind your own damn business. She told you she didn’t love you. She told you to stay away. Why didn’t you listen?” He took a hasty step forward. Now he was maybe two feet in front of you.

“Brock,” you barked, taking another step forward and grabbing onto his arm to both stop him and steady yourself. You were growing impatient now. He wasn’t making any sense. “What’s going on? Slow down and tell us what’s happening.”

“What’s happening is he screwed up everything! Everything!” The laugh that rang out was deranged and maniacal. His eyes were growing wild and angry once more. “It was working, (y/n)! It was going so well! Everything was in place. Everything was exactly how it was supposed to be! We were going to be happy!”

You had a sick feeling in your chest now and it refused to go away. “What was working?” You asked the question like you weren’t afraid of the answer, but you couldn’t help but notice the sense of dread that settled on your shoulders. 

“The plan, (y/n)! The goddamn plan!” he growled as he shoved his hand through his hair. “When they told me to poison you, they promised me I could be your hero! They promised that they’d heal you and I could take the credit! They promised me you’d come back to me and that you could be my queen in the new world!”

You stared at him, dumbstruck, and your vision started to cloud with red. “When you poisoned me?” In an instant you had Brock pinned to the wall, your fingers wrapped around his throat. You could only faintly see him through the haze of red. “What. Did. You. Do?” You spat each syllable in his face, venom seeping into your words.

“What I had to!” he choked out. “They told me to poison your food when I nursed you. Not enough to kill you but enough to keep you bedridden. They said it would work!”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to flare up. You’d never seen him so mad in all the time you knew him. He was at your side in an instant, a low and guttural growl seeping through his lips. “You poisoned her?” You didn’t even know that words could be so angry.

Brock glared at him before turning his gaze back to you. At once his eyes softened and grew desperate and pleading. “I did what I had to for us! Pierce said I could have you back and I—”

“Pierce?” you snarled, you grip tightening on his jugular. “What does he have to do with this?” Your head was spinning. While you didn’t quite yet understand what was going on, you weren’t stupid; you knew that somehow they had betrayed you, and you were damned if you weren’t going to find out what had happened.

Brock paled, terrified by the words he had just uttered. You had a feeling that he wasn’t supposed to reveal that little fact just yet or at all.

“Answer me!” You pulled him back a bit and slammed him into the wall, your strength fueled by your newfound rage.

Brock cried out as his head hit the stone behind him, but he spoke, “P-Pierce told me to do it. He said there was a greater plan, and if I helped him become king—”

“Then I would give him what he wanted,” a new voice finished from behind you. 

You dropped Brock and whirled around, your eyes narrowing. “Alexander,” you hissed.

He was standing in your garden, behind Bucky. He’d used your preoccupation with Brock to fly in silently. You could still see his wings retracting into his back. He grinned down at you and spread his arms with an ounce of flamboyancy. “In the flesh.” He looked past you at Brock who had crumpled to the ground and tsked with disappointment. “Oh, Rumlow,” he chided. “Did you really have to go whining to her?”

“I…” Brock lowered his head in shame, unable to meet the man’s eyes. 

Pierce sighed, his head falling back in exasperation. “And not only did you go whining to her, you also let our little plan slip. Well, no matter; it’s almost done now.”

“What plan?” you growled, your hand balling into a fist, ready to strike at any moment.

This did not go unnoticed by Alexander Pierce as he waved his hand at you dismissively. “Put the fists away, (y/n). I’m in no mood to fight you. You’re not my problem anymore.”

“You better explain yourself now, Pierce, or I swear to all things holy that your life will end here and now.”

“Oh, how scary,” he said, obviously mocking you. “You’re weak, (y/n). There’s nothing you could do to hurt me right now. You can barely stand, let alone throw anything even mildly harmful right now.”

You hated how he was right. Even now your legs were wobbling. You were still recovering, in no shape to fight. You bit your tongue as you relaxed your fist, letting your fingers fall open.

Pierce smirked down at you. “There. Now isn’t that better? Hostilities aren’t necessary.”

You continued to sneer at him, and you growled out once more, “Explain yourself.”

He hummed. “I don’t have to. You’re not my queen anymore. But I think I will, just to see your reaction if nothing else. I do love a good realization.” He hummed with a content smile. “But first, why don’t we sit? Standing is oh so tiring.” He took long strides over to one of the benches in your garden and sat.

You did not join him.

You kept your feet planted in the ground as you glared daggers at him. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Brock skirting around the perimeter of the garden to join Pierce. He kept his eyes on the ground, refusing to look up at you or in your general direction.

You could feel Bucky looming behind you, his presence engulfing you like a layer of armor. You didn’t know if that was his magic at work or just him, but it didn’t really matter. He was at your back and was keeping you safe through that. 

Pierce took one look at you and Bucky as you continued to stand and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He crossed his legs and grinned up at you, thoroughly pleased with himself. 

“You’re seated, now talk, and I might just consider letting you live.”

He scoffed. “You’re in no position to make demands right now. You’re crippled and I have the upper hand because I know things you don’t and have more power than you could ever imagine.” The look he gave you down his nose was patronizing, condescending, rude. His eyes held only malice and disgust as if the very sight of you repulsed him. “You’re not my queen,” he spat, the words jumping off his tongue with a harshness you’d never heard him use. “You haven’t been for a long, long time. The way you rule the Underworld is too soft, too benevolent. Death is not kind—it never has been—but you force it to be. You force it—force me—to be something we are not. And I’m sick of it. You are not fit to rule the Underworld; never have been, and never will. I’ve wanted the throne for centuries—”

“And yet you were never strong enough to take it.” Your arms were crossed and your teeth were bared in a snarl. “You still aren’t. Even with my disabilities right now, I have all of the Olympians behind me, my sisters especially. You could not even dream to challenge the big three.”

“This is true, but, like you, I’m not working alone. That would just be suicide.” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have made a move against you if I didn’t have a guaranteed victory. I had to find allies—powerful ones at that; ones that hated you as much as I did if not more.”

Your heart sank in your chest and your eyes flickered towards the far wall of the Underworld where the cave to Tartarus stood wide open. The dread grew heavier and heavier as you realized who he was talking about. “When I saw you leaving Tartarus… It was no accident that you were there, was it? You were…”

“Talking with my allies, yes.”

And, of course, by “allies,” he meant your father.

You felt the rage bubbling up inside your chest, your mind travelling back to the day where you found Pierce sneaking away from the cave. The bonds holding Kronos in place were tampered with, you knew that now. There was a reason the magic had felt weak when you’d gone in, but you’d been too blind at the time to see it. You began to tremble as you spat, “But you’re not under his control! Both Peggy and I have tested you!”

He roared with laughter. He clutched his stomach as his head fell back, laughing with such enthusiasm that he startled everyone gathered. Brock nearly leaped off the bench beside him in surprise. When Pierce got himself under control again, he wiped at his eyes and let out one last laugh.“My dear, one does not have to be mind-controlled to conduct a mutiny or want to overthrow the monarchy. No, one just has to be fed up enough with how things are currently. And I was.

“Kronos has promised me the throne of the Underworld—a billion souls at my beck and call. All the power and wealth I could imagine at the tips of my fingers. And all I had to do was take you out of the picture.” He laughed. “When I practically fed you the poison, (y/n), I never thought that the plan would work so flawlessly. Kronos told me you were gullible, but I didn’t believe it until I witnessed it that day outside of Tartarus.”

“When you fed me…” And suddenly it dawned on you. “You gave me water to help me calm down, and it—”

“Contained a poison created for me by the plague spirits Nosoi, yes. It takes one hell of a poison to cripple a god, and one of the original three at that.” He snickered jauntily. “Honestly, (y/n), I knew you were a fool, but this was just something else! You used to refuse any food or drink not prepared for you by your spirits You were cynical and slow to trust even me. It’s only been recently that you’ve let your guard down. The god of spring has made you soft, trusting, gullible. I ought to thank him.” He turned his gaze to Bucky, a devilish grin on his lips. “If it wasn’t for you, son, (y/n) here would’ve stayed the uptight bitch she was. You wore her down for me.”

At once you looked over your shoulder at Bucky, and what you saw broke your heart.

Bucky’s face washed white as the words sank into him. His eyes widened with horror. You could see that he truly believed this whole thing to be his fault. His fists clenched tightly and he lowered his head, the blue of his eyes turning stormy. “You son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. You could see the restraint he was fighting so hard to maintain. He wanted to lash out, to hit Pierce, to kill him, but you and he both knew that he wasn’t strong enough to fight the god of death.

“Now now, boy. There’s no need for that kind of language. You ought to learn to hold your tongue. Insult the wrong man and you might just find yourself in a body bag.” Pierce sneered at him before turning his attention back to you. “Rumlow here was my little double agent. The poison itself would’ve worn off after a month with your enhanced healing unless it was being reinforced with dose after dose. I knew that, but I also knew that I couldn’t just waltz into your room and feed it to you. You trusted me, but you never trusted me that much. So I had to find someone who made you lower your defenses.

“I found your poor discarded naiad by his river one night, lost and dejected. He told me his story when I asked, going on and on about how you had abandoned him for some minor god when he’d been the one to love you for centuries. I was vaguely aware of your affair with him after seeing him go in and out of your palace as he so pleased, and I knew that he had the trust that I lacked. He was so desperate to get you back that he was willing to do absolutely anything. So I told him what he had to do. I told him that if he would continue to poison you discreetly and help me become king, I would maybe keep you alive for him and he could have you again.”

You tore your gaze from the god and looked at Brock. He still wouldn’t meet your eyes, but that didn’t stop you from staring at him. “Brock,” you whispered, praying that your voice wouldn’t crack, “how could you?”

His betrayal hurt more than you thought it would. Sure you weren’t together anymore, but you had been for so long. At one point in time he’d know every inch of you better than you’d known yourself. You’d trusted him with your life, and even though you didn’t trust nor care for him as much, you’d grown to consider him a friend of sorts once more. 

He reluctantly brought his gaze up and tears welled up in his eyes. “Don’t you see?” he asked, his voice broken and fragile. “I did this for us—so we could be together! I did this because I love you!”

“If there was an ounce of you that loved me, you never would’ve betrayed me.” Your hurt turned to anger once more and you sneered at them, your gaze dripping with animosity. “I ought to smite the both of you where you stand.”

“Yes, but you won’t.” Pierce frowned mockingly and tilted his head to the side. “You don’t have the juice nor the mojo to. You’re still recovering, aren’t you?”

A low growl vibrated in your throat as you held out your hand, mustering every ounce of strength you had to call your weapon into being. Slowly the bident materialized, its cold shaft filling your hand and solidifying into existence. “I have enough power to kill you.”

Pierce’s haughty smirk wavered at the sight of your bident. He knew that it was a weapon that could easily kill a god, and he knew that you could use it well. However, he recovered from his initial unease quickly and regained his confidence. “Maybe, but I still have things I have to do. The titans are mobilizing, they’ve promised me sanctuary. I must take my leave before the battle ensues.” He tutted his tongue in disappointment. “Oh, I do hope you survive the wars, (y/n). It’ll be so satisfying to see the look on your face when you see the changes I make to your— to my new kingdom.” He stood abruptly and his wings spread away from his back. Grabbing hold of the back of Brock’s shirt, he beat his wings against the air—once, twice, three times—until he and the naiad he was holding lifted off. They were in the air before you could make a move, and out of your garden before you could stop them.

“Fucking coward,” you growled, watching the two figures soar away from you towards the entrance to Tartarus.

Bucky’s hand found a home on your shoulder and he gripped you tightly. “(y/n),” he whispered, his voice quivering. “Look.”

You glanced up to see him still as a statue. His eyes were locked on something in the distance. Slowly, you followed his gaze towards the cave to Tartarus where you could see the inside of the cavern illuminated with red. Your heart crawled up into your throat. The shade of red was familiar and haunting, and only one other thing in the world could produce it.

Your heart turned to stone, sinking in your chest and settling deep with dread. “Bucky… You need to go.” 

“No. We’ll face him together. I’m not letting you go alone. You’ll die.”

You turned around to look up at him.

His blue eyes were cold steel. He was set, unwavering. His mind had been made.

For once, you found yourself grateful for his stubbornness. You swallowed heavily. “Alright… Take us to Tartarus.”

You were standing at the mouth of the cave in the blink of an eye, Bucky having teleported you there with his own magic.

Turning to the cave, the red beams were even more brilliant than they had been from afar. They’d separated themselves into two, held several feet off the ground and only inches apart.

You could feel your stomach folding in on itself and, for the first time in millennia, you were scared. You knew who was coming, and no amount of courage was going to prepare you for it. 

The red grew larger and more intense, the color beginning to match the shade your eyes turned when you felt emotions so strong they almost had no name, until a figure finally emerged from the cave and the red found their home in his eyes. His hair matched yours in both hue and texture, his skin the same deathly shade as yours. He stood tall, a full head and then some above you, and his clothes were old and ragged, only adding onto his chilling image. His features were as sharp and clean as if he were cut from stone. His eyes, a red to match and rival yours, were perhaps his most chilling feature because they were yours. It was like staring into a horribly distorted mirror; it always shocked you to see just how much you looked like your father.

Your grip tightened on your weapon and you lifted it off of the ground. Holding it with both ends now, you pointed the impossibly sharp points at him. “I suggest you turn back,” you growled, your voice low and threatening. “You won’t like the consequences that come otherwise.”

Kronos merely grinned at you. His arms spread from his body in a welcoming gesture. “My darling daughter, is this really the kind of welcome you give me after so long apart? I’ve missed our little visits since your ailment took you.”

“Turn back,” you said again. “I won’t ask again. I have no appetite for your little games.”

“And what if I don’t?” His smile was slipping away, being replaced with a sinister snarl. “What if I don’t go back? What if I’m not a compliant little prisoner? What if I said I’ve had enough?”

“Then I would say your time is up.” Your grip tightened on your bident. “I have no qualms about killing you, Father.”

“Maybe not, but you do not have the strength to do so. My underling made sure of that.”

“You’re outnumbered,” you insisted. While Bucky had been silent behind you, you could feel the aura of power surrounding him, enveloping you in a warmth alien to the Underworld. He may not have been the most powerful god there was, but he was there to lend you aide.

Kronos roared with laughter, his red eyes closing as his head rolled back. The sounds of his amusement rang out for the whole Underworld to hear. Impossibly loud and chilling, it muted all else. “My dear child! Surely you cannot be so stupid as to think I would come alone!” He wiped at his eyes and let them settle on you. The red bore into your skull and you couldn’t help but wonder if those subjected to your own fiery stare felt as you did then. “No, I have been busy my dear. It only took a month to break out of my own imprisonment with you out of the picture. My brothers, however, were easier—their bonds not nearly as strong or enhanced. It didn’t take long and now we are all free.”

As if on cue, four figures became visible in the shadows of the cave. All you could see were their silhouettes, but you knew who they were: your uncles Crius, Iapetus, Coeus, and Hyperion. They stood there looming like silent observers, still as statues but more threatening than an approaching storm. 

You didn’t even know what you could think then. Seeing them there, you knew that it was you who was at the disadvantage. Even if Carol and Natasha were on their way (which you highly doubted because you’d never called them), you were still in trouble. Five titans against two gods did not leave the odds in your favor. If they so chose to, they could have probably annihilated you then and there. 

You felt small beneath their gaze, but you would not fold. You inhaled sharply through your nose and straightened. “It does not matter. The offer still stands. Return to Tartarus and I will consider letting you live.”

“I have a counter offer.” His red eyes looked you over and a sickening smile pulled at his lips. “A rematch of sorts. I understand your animosity towards me; I feel some of my own. However, I have just gotten free and I would like to enjoy it for a bit before we—as the kids say—duke it out.” He rolled his shoulders back and hummed. “Gather your forces, (y/n), if you think you’ll be strong enough to defeat me a second time. I’ll be waiting for you where it all went down, just like old times. You have a day before I begin my conquest.” He grinned at you then, the sight chilling and cold as he bared his teeth. And then, just like that, he and his brothers were gone—vanished. 

You and Bucky were left alone, the weight of his words settling over you.

Your father wanted a war. He wanted another Titanomachy. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.


	21. She Begs for a Promise

It’d been so long since you last donned your armor that you were surprised it even fit you. 

The black vibranium breastplate was as fitted and light as you remembered; the silver bracers were like a second skin. The skirt was long enough to cover you but short and loose enough to not bend your legs. The whole thing hugged your body, refusing to restrict your range of motion. If anything, it made you feel like you were even more flexible and agile. 

Wearing it, you felt young again—and not in a good way.

The last time you wore your armor you were involved in the ten year war, and now you were preparing for another.

The council gathered around the table of Olympus’ throne room once more, but this time in armor. It was dazzling to see how the individual armors matched the domain of the god or goddess that wore them. Carol’s was clear as a perfect sky, shining with an almost violent glare that mirrored the rage of lightning. Natasha’s was as dark as the deepest depths of the oceans she governed, filled with all the strength and power of the seven seas.

They looked powerful at the head of the table.

You would too—if you didn’t look like death still. You could feel your strength slowly returning to your body, but you still had hours to go. You didn’t choose to stay seated in your throne; you had no other option. If you wanted to speed up the process, you had to exert as little energy as possible on meaningless tasks such as standing. 

Bucky stayed seated too, his hand holding yours tightly on the armrest of your throne. He kept his fingers intertwined with yours as he squeezed your hand steadily. There was rarely a moment when he wasn’t touching you in some way or another. In the short hours since fleeing the Underworld to Olympus to share the news, Bucky refused to leave your side. He was scared but none of the fear was directed towards himself. 

He was scared for you.

You’d told him very little about your father, but you knew he’d heard the stories. You knew he knew what Kronos had done to you. He’d seen the lingering traumas first hand in the dead of the night. 

Nothing shook you. Nothing broke your calm and collected shell.

Nothing but your father, that is.

You should’ve been shaking in your boots, but you could not. You couldn’t make yourself come to realize just how dire the situation was. The reality of his escape and the threat he posed had not sunk in. Maybe it was because you were in shock after seeing his face—really seeing his face—for the first time in an eternity. Maybe it was because your brain and body were still trying to cope with having been poisoned and sick for so long. Maybe it was because you were still reeling from the betrayal of your lieutenant and your ex-lover.

A sharp cone of pain shot through your heart.

You hadn’t really had time to think about him in the chaos that was your father and followed by the panic of Olympus. But now, sitting at the table in your armor and silent, it seemed like you had all the time in the world.

Brock had been there for the sole purpose of making you sicker. He willingly poisoned you for a month, literally feeding it to you at night. You hated yourself for trusting him as much as you did. Maybe Pierce was right; you had grown soft and trusting lately. You felt stupid for letting him back in, for being vulnerable around him when you knew he couldn’t be trusted with your heart. You were so stupid for trusting him again. 

His betrayal hurt more than you thought it would and you hated that. You hated the fact that, even though you were done with him, you were still emotionally invested enough that he could hurt you so bad. Something must be said for the impact he left on your life. While you had Bucky, and you were so much happier with Bucky, you’d had Brock first. As negligent and borderline abusive as he’d been, he’d still seen you, held you, and “loved” you in the most intimate ways. 

Your eyes burned and you squeezed them shut, shoving all the pain down in the process. You could deal with him later, but right now you were needed elsewhere.

Bucky squeezing your hand drew you out of your thoughts. Reluctantly you forced your eyes open and looked over at him.

His blue eyes were filled with concern. “You alright?” he mouthed.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. Shooting him a quick smile, you turned your attention back to the council. 

Carol was spewing the information you’d given her when you arrived. She stood tall and confident, but you saw through that easily. She may have been a powerful queen, but you could tell she was scared of your father too. Her face was rock hard with determination as she spoke. “…the traitors will be found and dealt with accordingly, but there is a larger matter at hand. Fifteen hours remain in the deadline. As soon as they are up, my father will rage across the lands, leaving nothing but destruction in his path.”

Tony was the first to speak up. Ever the cynic with questions, he needed answers. “Where would he go?” His hands were folded underneath his chin as he looked at the head of the table.

You squeezed Bucky’s hand softly as you said, “Thessaly.”

All heads snapped towards you and eyes widened ever so slightly. You hadn’t spoken the entire meeting, and it was rare that you spoke at council meetings at all. You had a feeling that some of the gods assembled forgot you were even there.

But you continued to speak, your voice thick with melancholy, “It’s where we fought him the first time, it’s where we’ll fight him again. He said he’d be waiting ‘where it all went down.’ That could only mean Thessaly. He wants a rematch, exactly how it was in the Titanomachy.” Your stare was firm when you glanced at Carol and nodded your head. “I’m sure of it. Our father has always been one for sentimentalities and tradition. He’s bitter that we beat him, and he wants to put us in our place.”

“One titan against the gods?” It was Thor that spoke this time, his words uncertain and confused. “Victory should be easy, right?”

“There are five of them, including my father. And even then, victory is not guaranteed,” you said. “The titans are older than the gods. They’re stronger and greater. And they have the element of surprise.” He had to make sure he was prepared enough to take you on, that’s why he waited so long to expose himself. Your father was nothing if not calculating, and there was no way in Hades he would dare to take a stand unless he was sure the odds were stacked in his favor. 

A deep-set loathing hummed in your chest as you pictured the sick grin on his face when he saw you for the first time in ages. He knew exactly how he made you feel and it infuriated you. You clenched your free hand into a fist and stared at the gods assembled. “You’d do well to not underestimate them. They were clever enough to poison me and take me out of the picture so they could bide their time and build their strength. We have no way of telling how strong they are right now. In ancient times, we knew exactly what we were up against. But now… 

“You’ve all heard the stories. It was the titans against me and my sisters. Back then we had allies, but the cyclopes and hecatonchires who helped us have long been scattered to the edges of the worlds. We don’t have time to assemble them.” He hadn’t given you enough time. The cyclopes were currently residing in the bases of volcanoes or mountains, building or sleeping or doing whatever they so pleased. The hundred-handed ones were deep in their hibernation, choosing to sleep rather than be seen or interact with the mortals. The gods were truly the only ones who could stand against the titans and have a fighting chance. 

“Kronos poses a threat to us all,” you continued, your voice grave, “not just his children. What I am about to ask of you requires the greatest courage. I know we have all had our differences, and that none of you, save for a few, particularly like me, but I have to ask: will you stand with me—stand with us—against the destruction that is our father? Will you put your life on the line to protect the world from his tyrannical rule? Will you risk it all to save everything we have ever known?” You looked around the table at each of the gods, all thirteen of them, making eye contact with whoever would meet your eyes. 

Carol met your eyes and she grinned.

Nat simply smirked.

Maria nodded her head.

Winnifred refused to look at you and sneered.

Thor beamed and nodded. “I’m always ready to put someone in their place.”

Loki only shrugged his agreement.

Valkyrie smiled in approval.

Wanda and Pietro exchanged a glance before nodding.

Clint sighed. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Tony chuckled. “You’ll have me.”

“If my idiot husband is going,” Pepper mused, “I guess I have to as well to keep him in line.”

And Bucky…

Bucky’s eyes were shimmering as he squeezed your hand softly. “Always. Just lead the way.”

Carol cleared her throat at the head of the table, drawing the attention of the gods. All heads turned towards her and she smiled. “Thank you all. We’re going to need each and every one of you if we’re going to pull this off.”

“We’re with you, Carol,” Thor said with a resolute nod. 

“Then we move out in two hours. Ready your weapons and prepare for the battle of our lives. Dismissed.”

———

“Are you sure you can do this?”

“I’m going to have to be, Buck. My fa—” you caught yourself and frowned. “Kronos didn’t give us enough time to be sure.”

You could feel his uneasy gaze on your back and the tension in the air seemed to thicken.

You sighed as you tightened your bracers. You kept your back to him, refusing to meet his eyes. No doubt they were filled with concern and worry. You didn’t have the energy to deal with it. “It’ll be fine, Bucky,” you said softly, keeping your eyes trained ahead at your reflection in the mirror. Dark circles surrounded your eyes and your cheeks still looked hollow. You were death itself, a walking corpse almost. You looked frail and weak, like you weren’t even strong enough to stand on your own. A shaky breath rattled out of your lips. “It always is.”

Footsteps echoed in the room as Bucky drew closer. You could feel his figure growing closer until he was right behind you. His arms snaked across your waist and he pulled you into his chest and nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck.

You let your eyes fall shut as you let him hold you. You couldn’t remember the last time it had been like this: at peace and in each other’s arms. It had to have been months ago before you’d gotten sick.

“I’m scared, (y/n),” he mumbled, his breath dancing over your skin. “I’m scared for you. I’m scared that you won’t survive this.”

You chuckled softly. “How could I not, Bucky? I’m a goddess. It’s nearly impossible to kill me.”

“Maybe… But it was only days ago that you were on your deathbed, so far gone that I didn’t think I’d be able to save you.” He squeezed you tighter. “Don’t lie and say you didn’t think you were going to die because I know you thought so too.”

“I… I can’t think about dying right now. I can’t die. I’ve got so much I have to do.” You turned around into him and wrapped your own arms around his torso, pulling him flush against your body. 

“You know I’d never let you die, right? That if it came down to it I would protect you with my life.” His voice was soft—impossibly so—as he brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head. His lard fingers tangled themselves in the hair there and tugged at the tresses softly. He ran his fingers through the locks, brushing out any tangles that were there. 

“Buck,” you breathed, nuzzling your nose in his chest. “You know I’d never allow that. You’re too precious to me.” A lump began to rise in the back of your throat as you pictured him dying in your arms. You could tell that he wouldn’t hesitate to jump in front of a fatal blow meant for you if he was able. He was just that reckless and caring.

You could picture it so clearly: Bucky, bruised and bloody, golden ichor dripping from a gaping head wound as it coated his face and matted his hair. Thin lines of the gold would run from his mouth and ears in rivers, glowing sickly in dim light. His eyes… His eyes would the most haunting part of all—their light replaced by a dim and vacant death.

The image made goosebumps rise on your skin. “Please…” you begged, your voice nothing but a soft whisper in the wind. “Please promise me you won’t be a self-sacrificing asshole and save my life. If… If my father does get the upper hand, please promise me you’ll just let fate run its course and you won’t do something stupid.”

“I-I… I can’t. I just got you back,” he whispered, pulling you impossibly close, refusing to look down in your eyes. “I’m not letting you go again.”

“I can’t let you die.” You forced him away, holding him at arms’ length. You reached up and cupped his cheek, making him meet your eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died in my stead. Every day would be spent in mourning—in agonizing guilt knowing it should’ve been me. I won’t let you go out there onto the battlefield until you can promise me that, no matter what happens out there, you won’t get yourself killed.”

“But—”

“Promise me,” you snapped. You weren’t going to let him argue. You refused to let him plead his case. Your mind was made. The coming battle was between you and your father; you refused to let Bucky be caught in the crossfire. You wouldn’t make him sit on the sidelines so long as he vowed to keep himself safe. But… If he couldn’t do that, you would find a way to keep him safe.

Bucky seemed to realize this in a single moment. You could see it in the way his shoulders deflated. He really only had two options: stay home, safe and sound, or join the fight, doing his best to keep you safe without putting himself in harm’s way in the process. He hung his head and sighed. “Fine. I promise. But—”

“There’s always a ‘but’ in there, huh?” You couldn’t keep the smile out of your voice despite the ever-growing worry. “Buts” were never a good thing.

He laughed weakly. “You know there always is. It’s me.” He brought his hand up and cupped your cheek tenderly, his eyes boring into your skull. “I promise that I won’t get myself killed, but I cannot promise that I won’t do all in my power to save your life if it should be endangered. I can’t lose you either, and I’ll be damned if I just stand by and watch while something happened to you.”

“Bucky…”

“Don’t. Don’t protest or say something to try and discourage me. My mind is made up and there is nothing in this world that can make me decide otherwise. I’m going to be out there and protect you as long as I can.”

“You’ve never seen war.”

“True, but I shouldn’t think it to be too hard. Five people aren’t my friends; they’re the ones I need to fight.”

“You’re only a minor god.”

“I can still pull my weight.” A smirk crossed his lips. “You’ve never seen me bring spring, huh?”

You almost shrieked with laughter. “Spring? What the fuck does spring have to do with that?”

He only grinned. “Everything. Spring can actually be pretty violent when I want it to be. Trees erupting out of the ground… Plants curling around bodies and anchoring them to the ground… You’d be surprised by what I could do.” His eyes darkened as he spoke, a haunted shadow overtaking them. 

You pressed your lips together, the pressure forcing them into a thin line. The air had grown thick and heavy over you and it let its weight linger on your shoulders. “You’re probably right… Just… Don’t get hurt. Please.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“And when all of this is over…”

“Yes?” His grip tightened on your face and his thumb rolled over your skin.

A breath shuddered out of your lips and you pushed up on your toes. When your lips met his, the kiss was soft and gentle, tender and cherishing.

His eyes closed in response as his lips moved with yours, catching your bottom lip and refusing to let it go. His other arm snaked around your waist and his hand pressed flat against the small of your back. His embrace was strong and loving, and he kissed you just like the first time.

You happily let him.


	22. She Faces the End

The valley at the heart of Thessaly was just as you remembered it from all those centuries ago, but the grass was greener here. It’d been fertilized by the ichor spilled by gods and titans both during the Titanomachy. Craters still dotted the earth from where lightning or bodies had struck it. There was still a trench tearing it apart from where you’d dragged your bident through the dirt, attempting to cut one of your uncles in half. It was a battleground—populated with new plants and life, but a battleground nonetheless.

The scene was one of legends: titans and gods standing once again in two lines.

The brothers stood in an arch, Kronos at the point with his brothers flanking his sides evenly. A large golden scythe—his signature weapon—filled his hand, its shaft embedded into the dirt of the earth. His lips were curled up in a lazy smirk, his eyes half-lidded and content. He was amused as he looked across the valley at you, his red eyes never leaving yours.

He and his brothers were dressed in the very basics of armor; they didn’t think they needed it. They were titans—nearly invincible. They feared nothing, least of all bodily harm.

Funny, considering how many scars coated their arms from the last war.

The gods were prepared. With your sister as the figurehead, you and Natasha at her sides, and the gods flanking you three, you stood strong. 

You could feel Bucky at your side, his aura engulfing you. He was on the side of you, separated only by your weapon which was tightly grasped in your hand. Your knuckles were white as you gripped the shaft, the stress in your body apparent as you glared across the meadow at the man who haunted your nightmares.

You hadn’t visited this place since the war, and now history was repeating itself.

The air was thick with tension. It weighed down on your shoulders like a burden, trying to shove you down into the ground and break your resolve. Neither side budged; all stood still as statues. No one wanted to be the immortal to instigate the fight. Not even your father who lived for conflict. He only smirked at you, his eyes bypassing his youngest and finding you—his firstborn and first victim.

Oh, how you loathed him. Oh, how you wished you could just end this now, snap your fingers and be back in your living room safe and sound with Bucky by your side. What would you be doing right now if none of this had happened? You’d probably be at home, maybe having brunch with your mother and Bucky or hosting your sisters for the morning. Maybe you’d be spending it on Olympus for once, roaming the shops with Bucky before getting bored of all the stares and going down to the Mortal World. Or maybe you’d be stuck in the office tackling an enormous mountain of paperwork. Whatever you’d be doing, it would be a hell of a lot better than what you were doing now.

The silence refused to let its hold of the valley go, and you found yourself begging for someone—anyone—to just break it already. It was deafening.

Your father, ironically, was the only one who seemed to catch the silent plea.

His smirk only grew as he looked at you, and, finally, he greeted you saying, “My darling daughters, at last. Right where this all began. You might’ve had the upper hand last time, but I have spent centuries growing stronger, and—Finally!—I have the power to end the gods.”

Carol grit her teeth as she stared across the valley at your father, her eyes darkening. Her back straightened and you could see the queen in her emerging. She viewed your father not as family, but as an adversary. She was diplomatic and regal as she tightened her grip on her weapon: a six-foot staff of pure electricity. The concentrated bolt of lightning crackled in response to her annoyance and agitation. It glowed a bright white in her grasp, radiating pure power. “Turn back now, Father. Your threats will not be tolerated; your presence will not be allowed. Surrender and you might just survive this encounter unscathed.”

He roared with laughter, throwing his head back. “Oh, Carol, my youngest and most naive daughter. You think you have the authority to tell me what to do? You are not a titan, you are not even the first god. That honor would go to your beloved sister now, wouldn’t it?” His red eyes found your face off to her side and they crinkled around the edges in a grin. “I never did understand why you gave up the throne, my child. It was yours by birthright.”

He was provoking you; that much was clear to see. It was almost as if he was trying to turn you against your sisters by igniting a sense of entitlement in you.

It was pathetic.

You lifted your chin in annoyance. “I am not the queen here, Father. I was wise enough to know my place.” You picked your bident of the ground and lowered the tip in his direction. “Now you heard her: surrender now or suffer the consequences. We will not hold back. You will not be spared.”

“You don’t scare me. You are nothing but a god. I am a titan—the _king_ of the titans. I have more power than you will ever know.”

“Then how did we defeat you?” You were growing agitated now, sick of his talk. “Make no mistake, Father, we were the victors of the war. We bested you, and the only reason you managed to free yourself was that you played dirty and corrupted one of our own.”

At the mention of his efforts to poison you, Bucky bristled at your side. You could feel anger rolling off him in waves.

Instantly your hand found his and you squeezed it as if to say, “Be still. Now is not the time.”

Thankfully he understood. It was an obvious effort for him, but he did retreat a step or so back.

For once he decided to listen to you and you were grateful for that. 

This little exchange did not go unnoticed. 

Kronos’ smirk only widened as his eyes switched between the two of you. “Oh, (y/n)… You got yourself a little pet. Are you supposed to be my son-in-law, boy? Is that what this is?”

“Leave him out of this, Father,” you hissed, your voice turning low and threatening. You were not in the mood for these antics.

“And what if I don’t? What if I decide that it’s fun?” His red eyes held your gaze before dipping to your lover. “What ever happened to that nymph? Last I heard she was making love to him every night. Did she get tired of him and come to you, boy? Did she decide that she needed a god to satisfy her instead?”

“Shut up,” Bucky growled, his possessiveness coming out. 

“Oh! I see. You want to defend her honor!” Kronos cackled. “My lovely daughter has found herself a lover then—a man to finally settle down with.” He crossed his arms and looked Bucky and up and down, scrutinizing every inch of him. “A god of spring. Minor. Young. Little to no experience with real life. (y/n), you really had to pick him? He can’t protect you from anything. Or maybe you were thinking you’d be the one to protect him! Fancy that! A queen putting her life on the line to save her lover.”

“Stop,” you growled. You could see where he was going with this and it made your blood sizzle beneath the surface. The temperature dropped around you in response to your annoyance.

“You thought you’d save your precious prince? Twist the fairy tale a bit? You think you’re strong enough for that? How could you—a goddess who can barely keep a titan contained and who can be incapacitated by a small bit of poison—protect or save anyone?”

“Father, enough!” 

“You think you can save your friends? You think you can save anyone? You think you can defeat me? I am a titan! I am the first! I created you and I can destroy you just as easily! You are an insect: insignificant and puny. A waste of space! Unfit for anything you have.”

The world was turning red. The hue started at the edges of your vision and only flooded in, coating the entirety of your sight. Your hands trembled with rage. Your grip grew impossibly tight on your bident. 

His words enraged you. You knew they shouldn’t, but the taunting affected you more than you’d care to admit. You prided yourself on your power, and here he was accusing you of having not even that. But it wasn’t that the accusations angered you—no—what angered you was the possibility that he might be right.

The smile splitting his lips only grew wider. His chest puffed out in preeminence as he spoke, bolstering himself. His voice seemed to grow louder with every syllable. “You are weak. You are useless. You are still that pathetic girl I ate all those centuries ago!”

You knew Bucky’s hand was on your back as he tried to calm you, but you didn’t register it at all. Instead, you simply trembled and pulled your bident off the ground.

Kronos locked eyes with you across the valley. You could see that the anger on his face matched your own. He was mad at you. He was venting, letting loose all the feelings he’d built up over the centuries of his imprisonment. And now he was letting it go; attacking you with a first wave. His voice filled with poison as he yelled, “You! Are! _Nothing_!”

The scream that tore through your throat was earsplitting and you jammed your bident into the dirt beneath you. The crack that followed cut through the air and the ground, tearing a chasm in the earth. It shot at him like a flood, only halting when he drove his own weapon into the ground in its path.

The silence that followed was heavy. The gods around you looked too afraid to even speak. The titans were too stunned to move.

Only your father reacted. “Ah hah! Now there’s that fire in you I know you got from me.” He twirled his scythe in the air, the sound of the blade cutting nothing echoing through the valley. “Now come and show me that you really are my daughter.” And with that, he began his descent, his brothers close behind.

And that was your cue to move.

The world passed in slow motion as the titans and the gods moved down their respective mountains into the valley. Weapons glittered in the sunlight and the air filled with battle cries. If it wasn’t real and your immediate situation, you would have laughed at how cliche the scene was. However, there was no laughing as you saw your father’s scythe coming down in a golden arc across the length of the valley. 

Time slowed. 

Literally.

It suddenly felt like you were running through a wall of molasses. Your legs were sluggish; your body heavy. Time had slowed to a crawl and you were trapped in it.

It wasn’t just you.

Looking around, you could see the other gods were just as bewildered as you were. Looks of panic covered their faces. They didn’t know what was going on.

But you knew. With a sickening drop of your stomach, you knew.

Kronos’ sneer gave it all away.

He was the titan of time. Of course, he could manipulate it. 

The titans moved in normal time while the gods were trapped in their sloth-like prison. The titans had slowed their pace to a lazy gait, conserving energy and taunting you with their sheer presence. 

You grit your teeth as you slowly pulled your energy back. Two could play at that game. If they wanted to slow you, then you were going to take advantage of the extra time. 

The fire was slow to catch in your stomach, but you could feel its warmth bubbling up, boiling just beneath the surface. His hold on you would break at some point, and when it did, you’d be ready.

Kronos waited until the titans were nearly on top of you to release his hold. 

And, when he did, you were ready.

With your newly regained strength, you stopped dead in your tracks and jammed your bident into the earth once more. But this time, you didn’t split it.

A wave of darkness rolled out from the point of impact, rushing the titans with pure force. The sky blackened and the titans were pushed back. 

And that was all the gods needed. What once was an advantage for the titans quickly did a one-eighty and turned in your favor. 

You could see the utter shock and annoyance reflect in Kronos’ eyes as he realized his plan backfired and watched his brothers fall into the gods’ onslaught.

Outnumbered five to fourteen, the battle should’ve been obvious; but the titans possessed a strength that the gods never would. 

Crius, Iapetus, Coeus, and Hyperion didn’t hesitate to engage the fight, but Kronos simply stood back and watched, his red eyes sweeping over the valley.

You chose to do the same, leaving your bident stuck in the ground. 

Four rings of battles formed, one for each titan.

Your sisters wove in and out of the clusters, migrating to wherever their aide was needed most. Hyperion was proving to be a formidable foe for Valkyrie, Thor, and Loki. With Natasha’s help, they managed to shove down the golden titan’s sword, holding him back with their strength alone.

Maria and Clint worked in tandem with Carol against Coeus. Carol never let your uncle near her wife, protecting Maria with a fierce fire in her eyes as she let lightning fall from the sky across his body. But Maria was not useless. Armed with an elegant spear, she landed blow after blow, dancing just out of the titan’s reach. Clint stood apart from them, using his marksman aim to make ranged attacks. Arrows would sprout from the titan’s back and body at random intervals, and you knew he was hard at work. You just hoped he’d brought more than eleven arrows.

Tony and Pepper held their own against Crius. The titan of heavenly constellations was just barely a match for the husband and wife duo. Tony had armed himself with an armor of his own creation (which he affectionately named Mark 85 because it was his eighty-fifth suit) and used the built-in projectile system to rain fire down on the titan. Pepper was also adorned in an armor of Tony’s creation. The blue of her suit complimented the red of his perfectly. She provided backup and additional fire against the titan. Together, they kept the titan pinned and flailing. They were an arc of destruction.

And that led your gaze to the last battle.

It was Bucky, his mother, and the twins against Iapetus. The four gods matched the titan perfectly as blades clashed. Winnifred had her long sword interlocked with Iapetus’ spear as Wanda attacked with her magic and Pietro zipped around the titan, jabbing his sword into any gap in the armor he could find.

Bucky did what he said he would: he brought the wrath of Spring.

It was beautiful chaos and Bucky stood at its center. A king commanding his forces, he guided vines and roses full of thorns around Iapetus’ legs, anchoring him to the ground and drawing golden ichor from his flesh. He directed the thorns to bite the titan with a flawless fluidity, hardly even breaking a sweat. He was powerful and—at that moment—you understood why people called it a “force of nature.”

They were winning their fight. Iapetus buckled under their pressure, his own resolve faltering as fear took over his pale face and ichor spilled from his wounds. It was so amazing that you could’ve just cried with joy.

But, as with all things, the joy came to an end as someone moving in the corner of your vision drew your attention.

In the midst of the chaos, Kronos sauntered between individual battles with his head held high. He barely spared glances to the gods around him as some of them turned away from their own battles to try and strike him. Any feeble attempt at an attack was simply batted to the side. He couldn’t be bothered; he’d set his sights on his target and his mouth split into a sadistic grin. His red eyes bore into your skull. He was coming straight towards you.

Bucky glanced up as he felt the evil presence approaching, turning his attention from your uncle to your father. At once, his eyes darkened and he turned his body towards Kronos. His grip on his sword tightened as he moved to step in his path and keep Kronos away from you. 

Kronos simply smirked as he stared at Bucky. “Move, or I will kill you, godling,” he said, his step unwavering. 

Bucky—stupid, stupid Bucky—held his ground. “I won’t let you hurt her.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Kronos twirled his scythe and lifted it up in an arc over his head, ready to swipe down at Bucky. 

“No!” You were in front of Bucky in an instant, lifting your bident up to stop the blade of the scythe. Vibranium clashed with gold and sparks flew. It was a merciless torrent raining down on a cloudless day. Your eyes burned red through your lashes. “Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare,” you hissed. The words were nothing but a harsh growl as they cut through the air, but you weren’t playing. 

Kronos’ lips twitched up. “My, my. Such vulgar language.”

You sneered at him and addressed Bucky without ever taking your eyes off the titan, “Deal with the others; I can handle him.” 

You could feel Bucky taking reluctant steps away from you as he rejoined his fight, but he wasn’t far away if you needed him.

Kronos grinned down at you, his scythe still interlocked with your bident. “Are you sure, daughter? Are you sure you’re strong enough?”

“I know I am.” Your eyes traced the arcs that made up his face. Looking in the mirror that was your father, you could feel your heart retreating back into your chest with dread; but you stood your ground as determination bubbled up, taking the place of fear and anxiety. Your lips split into a taunting grin. “After all, you couldn’t even hurt me yourself. You had to use extortion and trickery to weaken me.”

A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he added to the pressure pushing at your weapon. “We’ll see who will hurt the other.”

“I guess we will.” You shoved up, using an element of surprise to your advantage to push him away and swipe at his legs. 

It was a miracle he jumped backward. The tip of your bident soared dangerously close to his kneecaps.

You recovered from your miss fairly quickly, standing and twirling around to try and land a blow.

He was ready this time as he brought his scythe up to block you. He shoved you back and made an attack of his own.

But you blocked as well.

Back and forth you danced in an endless circle of attacking and blocking. It was growing tedious honestly. But it was necessary. You couldn’t allow your focus to drop for even a second otherwise he would hurt you.

But you knew he’d hurt you anyways.

So it was no surprise when you felt a searing pain across your calf as he swiped up with his scythe and dragged the blade against the surface of your skin. 

You screamed and leapt away from him, glancing down to assess the damage. It wasn’t bad, thank the gods, but it was enough that ichor began to pour from the wound.

Kronos’ smirk deepened as he stalked towards you. But he didn’t attack, instead he circled you as a predator does to prey. His laugh was cold and deep. “It’s you and me, daughter, as it always should have been.”

You grit your teeth as you pivoted, refusing to let your back be exposed to him. You felt like an injured animal being circled by a lion: trapped and desperate. But you refused to let him see that. “I hate you,” you hissed in a low voice.

“Oh, I know you do. The feeling is quite mutual.” He twirled his scythe, the blade audibly cutting the air. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance, back when you were only but a child. Eating you was too generous.”

“Then why didn’t you? Why didn’t you just end it when you could?”

His steps slowed until he finally stopped, and when he looked at you, you saw, for perhaps the first and only time ever, his gaze softened to an almost affectionate glance. But as soon as it had appeared, it was gone and he was gritting his teeth once more. “Call it a father’s idiocy. Maybe I did have an ounce of love for you. But whatever it was has been dead for a long time.”

The words hit you like a slap to the face and any hope you’d ever even maybe had of having even a tolerable relationship with your father vanished. Instead, red-hot rage filled you and you shot towards him.

You were before him in an instant, raining down hatred with your weapon.

He took advantage of your eagerness to attack to make a swipe at you with his scythe, this time aiming for your head. You backed off just in time to save your neck, but not to save your cheek. Pain cut across your face, thin as a thread but intense enough to make tears prick at your eyes. Even without looking, you knew that that one was most likely going to leave a scar. 

Gritting your teeth, you cut an arc through the air and the prongs of your bident fell squarely on the blade of his scythe as he blocked. You pulled away briefly before swiping in again. Once more he blocked. This time he retracted his weapon before lunging.

But, in his desperate frenzy, he overshot himself.

For once, time seemed to slow in your favor. You saw where he would land, and you acted accordingly. Stepping to the side, you waited until he was right beside you before bringing your weapon down on his back.

Golden ichor poured from his newest wound and he faltered ever so slightly.

It was all you needed. 

The fires of Hades were on your side as you attacked, unrelenting and merciless. Never once did you ease the pressure. 

The effort paid off.

Cuts of all shapes and sizes began to appear over his body as your weapon found its mark. It was an extension of you and your anger towards him and you finally let all the pent up rage go.

He was kneeling now, and he finally found the chance to raise his scythe to block you. But even with it raised, you still attacked over and over again, striking one spot with growing intensity.

And, staring down at him, you realized something.

You were winning. 

You were actually winning and it was an amazing feeling. You were making him small—as small as he made you felt. You pushed him down, blow after blow. The gold of his scythe glowed hot from the hellfire that rained down on it and the shaft actually began to bend under pressure. 

The fear in Kronos’ eyes went unmasked. He didn’t even have the strength to fake composure.

You were glowing. Was anyone else seeing this? How were the others doing? You took your eyes off of your father and glanced around the battlefield to look for Bucky.

You wish you hadn’t.

You found Bucky. He was still fighting Iapetus. His mother and the twins had been swatted to the side and were regrouping. It was just Bucky against the titan. It was a fight you knew Bucky would lose. And you had turned just in time to see Iapetus bring his spear down on Bucky’s chest, drawing a thin line of golden ichor through the god’s skin. You saw Bucky’s face contort in anguish as he was cut.

His pain made you falter.

And that’s all Kronos needed.

Suddenly his weapon wasn’t beneath yours. It was cutting your legs, tearing at the muscles in your thighs.

Burning fire shot through your body and you went down at once. Already you could feel your immortality trying to heal you, knitting together the destroyed muscle and tissue, but it wouldn’t be quick enough. You fell down hard on your hands and knees and ichor poured from your wounds, flooding the ground beneath you.

You gripped your bident tighter as you screamed and tried to muster a sitting position, but you weren’t allowed to get that far.

The curved blade of the scythe plunged into your right shoulder and lifted you from the ground like a ragdoll. You couldn’t tell if the screaming came from your own mouth or from those around you as Kronos picked you up and flung you across the valley.

Your back hit the stone of a nearby boulder and you could feel the bones cracking under the pressure. The pain was excruciating, but you couldn’t even scream. Your voice was arrested by the agony you were in. The metallic taste of ichor filled your mouth. Your blood rushing in your ears was the only audible sound for about five seconds and the red faded from your gaze. 

Through the dim haze that lingered, you could see _him_—Kronos—coming for you. 

He twirled his scythe in the sunlight, the blade dancing dangerously through the air. He stopped just feet away from you and stared down at you, his face betraying nothing.

You tried to move, tried to speak, tried to do anything at all, but your body would not respond. It was too busy dealing with the pain from the gaping wound in your shoulder and desperately trying to mend it. You could feel the muscle painfully knitting itself together at an agonizingly slow pace. Every second was filled with knives digging into your flesh again and again. 

But despite the regeneration, you knew it wouldn’t be done fast enough to make a difference.

Kronos sucked in a breath as he dipped his scythe, letting the blade rest just below your chin and bring it up to face him. His red eyes glowed with venom and victory and he smirked. “For 2,825 years… I have dreamt of this moment… The moment when I, Kronos, titan of time and King of all… Finally… Put an end to the wretched gods I created… Reclaim the throne that was brutally stolen from me… And killed the one person I loathe the most in this world.”

You mustered up all your strength and, not moving your neck for fear of an early and accidental death, spat at him. The ichor that filled your mouth landed on his foot—not a great distance but enough to make your point. You sneered at him. “This isn’t over. Even if you kill me, there will be those that will take you down!” Gods… Even saying that hurt you. Your breathing was growing more labored and painful; every inhale sent fire to your lungs.

“Maybe… But regardless, I will finally be victorious after I have killed the one, consistent thorn in my side.” He chuckled darkly and raised his scythe. “I wish there was something waiting in death for you, my dear, but I know the god of it and—trust me—there is nothing but pain and suffering in store for you. I have waited for this moment for too long, and now…” 

The gold of his scythe blocked out the sunlight, the glow impossibly blinding. It was all you could look at. The gold and the red of your father’s eyes. How many times had you seen those eyes and wondered why he was your father? How many times had you looked in the mirror at your red and wondered why your father hated you? How many times had you wondered what you had done to have such a horrible father?

But none of it mattered now. Looking up, you didn’t see the man who helped create you; instead, you saw a monster. You saw the man who would bring your end. 

And you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. 

Because, suddenly, you were a seven-year-old kid again.

Staring up into the eyes of your father.

Wondering what you had done to deserve such a fate.

You could hear the faint sounds of battle around you growing fainter and fainter and you knew this was it. You knew that there was no coming back from this.

You were going to die and leave everything behind.

Would your sisters avenge you? Would they kill your father once and for all or would they join you in the grave? Would you get a proper funeral with an obol sealing your lips to pay your fare to the Underworld? Imagine that: the Queen of the Underworld paying a fee to enter her own kingdom. Or was your father right in saying that only pain awaited you after death?

Would your mother cry for days after your death, wishing she’d never brought you into the world at all so that you wouldn’t have to endure such pain?

Who would take care of Cerebus? Peggy maybe? Or would she be so weighed down with grief and new responsibilities as Queen of the Underworld to play with him properly?

And Bucky…

Oh gods… 

Bucky would probably take your death the hardest. He loved you after all.

Would he find love after you? Or would he be inconsolable? Would he learn to live in a world that you weren’t in? Or would he succumb to a depression that not even his friends could rouse him from? 

You prayed to anyone that would listen that he’d be alright without you because you knew you wouldn’t rest in peace if you were the one to destroy him.

But, despite these fears, you knew they’d all be okay after you went. They wouldn’t be alone. They’d have each other.

And that was a comforting thought.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you looked up at your father and set your stare in stone. You wouldn’t let him see your sadness or despair. Instead, you’d leave him with one last image of a brave face—one that wasn’t scared of him and embraced death like an old friend.

“…you die!” He swung down at you, the gold of his scythe slicing an arc in the air.

It was only then that you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for a pain that was indescribable.

For a pain that never came. 

It should’ve been over. Is this what death was? Painless? You expected death to be painful as he cut through you, but you felt nothing.

For a moment, there was absolutely nothing; just silence. 

And then you heard it: the cry of agony.


	23. She Unleashes Hell

The cry of agony was not yours.

But you felt it. You felt all the pain in the pitch just resonating around you. You could feel the agony and mind-numbing pain and it shocked you to your core.

Especially when you recognized the scream’s owner.

And it was then that you registered the lack of extra pain you felt and slowly peeled your eyes open.

And then you saw it: the body lying before you—the _bloody_ body.

_Bucky’s body._

Your lips parted in a scream as you saw Bucky writhing on the ground, ichor coating the entirety of his left side. It was just pouring from his arm—

No.

Not from his arm.

From the stub where his arm _used to be_.

He had taken the blow meant for you, somehow diving in front of you just in time to save your life, but not his arm. If you forced yourself to look, you would see the severed limb just lying in the grass feet away from its body. The scythe had cut through the bone like butter and left Bucky in terrible pain.

“Oh my gods, Bucky!” you cried out, your voice tearing through the air. You forced yourself to a crawling position despite the pain, ignoring all your nerves flaring up in protest as you dragged your limp body to the spot where Bucky lay. Nothing else mattered to you; not your father standing bewildered apart from you, not your siblings rushing over, not anything.

All that mattered was getting to Bucky.

As the adrenaline coursed through your veins, you could feel your healing increasing its pace. It seemed like your body was also desperate to get to him and care for him and it knew that, in order to do so, it would have to be at its best. Feeling slowly returned back to your right arm as the wound healed just enough to function. You crawled the few agonizing feet to Bucky’s side and fell beside him. Your vision clouded with red and tears as you pulled his head into your lap. “Bucky!” you sobbed, holding his head between your cold hands. 

His skin was on fire and his eyes were squeezed shut. His lips were parted as he grunted and whimpered in pain. The sounds broke your heart. His hand blindly groped the side of his body as he tried to squeeze his limb to alleviate the pain, but there was nothing to grab onto. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stump of his arm. It’d been severed right beneath the shoulder. You weren’t even sure how it was possible. How had he jumped to be cut in such a way? Why had he done it?

“Bucky, you’re going to be okay,” you whispered to him, your voice trembling. “You’re going to be okay… You’re going to be okay.”

It was Kronos’ laugh that drew your eyes away from your maimed love. Bringing them up to your father, they flashed red and you felt heat rising in your chest. A fire burned dark and hot as rage filled you. “You…”

Kronos was too busy holding his stomach to hear the malice in your voice. “What a foolish boy!” he cried out in between laughs. “An imbecile! He thinks that by jumping in the way he can save you? Hah! As if his sacrifice will make a differ—”

“Silence!” You swiped your hand at him and the rage flowed out of you. Manifesting in the shape of a wall of darkness, your power slammed into him and knocked him flying through the air. The titan had only a moment before he was sprawled out on the ground two dozen yards away, crippled by the raw force of your anger. 

With him at a distance, you turned your gaze back to the man lying in your lap. 

He was losing color at an alarming rate and you knew it had all to do with the vast amounts of blood that were flowing from his arm. He was bleeding out. You knew one of his arteries was severed and contributing to the steady flow of ichor. 

“Pietro!” you called desperately, searching for the god of medicine. He would know what to do. He would know how to save Bucky. Your eyes scanned the field and, there, across the valley, you saw him struggling out of his fight to get to you. But even with his enhanced speed, you knew he wouldn’t make it to Bucky in time to do anything.

Unless you did something to help first.

Your mind was racing as you looked around. You had no string or anything of the likes that could be used as a tourniquet. You had nothing to stifle the flow. He was going to bleed out before you could save him if you just did nothing, but what could you—

And suddenly, looking through the red lenses that covered the world, it struck you. 

Hellfire coursed through your veins. Fire could possibly stop the bleeding.

It certainly wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but it was something.

Your breaths were labored as you pulled Bucky closer to you so that his head was pressed against your stomach and you could reach his arm better. Bending over him, you reached forward with both hands and cupped the stump.

He thrashed in your lap, reaching over desperately to try and tear your hands from his flesh, but you held on, his ichor staining your fingers with the sickening color.

“Oh, please. Please let this work,” you whispered as you took a shaky breath and commanded the fires of Hades to flow through your body and to your hands. 

It was mesmerizing to watch. Your veins glowed red beneath your skin, surging with power and warming your body tremendously. It flowed through your arms, stemming from your heart until it came to rest in your hands which were glowing white with fire.

And that’s when the pain really hit Bucky.

You couldn’t imagine what he was feeling at that moment, but from his screaming, you knew it was excruciating. 

Your heart wept for him, but you could not stop. As much as you hated this now—seeing him hurting like this—you would hate his death more. 

You kept the fire on the stump for only a few more moments, feeling the flesh cook beneath your skin, before letting go. The fire dimmed down and you were able to look over him in his entirety.

He’d lost a lot of his color, but the bleeding had been stopped. Sweat made his skin shine and plastered his head to his forehead. His usually plump lips were chapped and parted as he drew in ragged breaths. His face was screwed up in pain, his eyes—those beautiful blue eyes that you loved so much—were squeezed tightly shut. He couldn’t even open them. His hand was balled into a fist, probably to help him handle the pain as much as he could.

Your gaze softened as you brushed your hand over his head. Despite the fire lingering in your flesh, he was burning up. “Oh, Bucky…” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “Why did you do that? Why are you so stupid?”

A shadow crossed his body and you looked up right as Pietro knelt by Bucky’s side. The god did a quick scan of the man in your lap before he got to work, conjuring medical supplies out of thin air. “You’ve cauterized the wound,” he said as he began to dab at it with pristine white gauze. “The bleeding is stopped but he’s not in the clear yet. Don’t worry, I have him.” His eyes flickered up to meet yours and he smiled softly. “You saved his life. Nice thinking.”

You could only nod. “I… I didn’t know what to do… What can I do?”

“You can win this war.” He was looking back down at Bucky’s arm as his hands moved swiftly. “Defeat Kronos. The other titans are down. Kronos is the only one left.”

You glanced up and, sure enough, your four uncles were either on the ground or in chains being handled by the gods. 

You could see Tony and Pepper holding onto a broken and bloody Crius whose hands were bound in vibranium chains. One second they were there, the next they were gone—teleported away to, probably, the Underworld to return him to Tartarus. One by one, the other gods followed suit, taking their respective titans away. No one dared go near Kronos. 

Your father was still sprawled out at the other end of the valley. However, he was stirring now, pushing himself up. Your attack had taken him by surprise and he was only now recovering from it. You could feel his rage rolling toward you in waves. 

He was the only one left; the only obstacle in your path.

You grit your teeth and, after gently pushing Bucky’s head off your lap, rose to your feet. Your bident had materialized in your hand again, finding its home in your palm. The pain in your shoulder was almost nonexistent now, the hellfire you’d conjured having aided its healing. You felt good. You felt powerful. And you were going to end this. Sparing one last glance down at Bucky, your stare hardened. You could do this; if not for yourself, then for him.

Your strides were wide and purposeful, and every step you took sent thunder ringing through the air. 

All the gems and minerals in the ground moved with you, the wealth you governed shaking the earth. The air itself was charged with energy and electricity, and it took you only a moment for you to realize that your sister was causing that.

Carol fell in stride with you to your right, her lightning staff crackling. Her eyes glowed with energy as she looked over at you, a firm smile on her face. “We’re doing this together. You’re not alone.”

“I could kick our dad’s ass,” Natasha chimed beside you, a smirk of her own crossing her lips. “I think it’s high time he learned his place.”

You chuckled. “Damn right. Together.”

Flanked by your sisters, you marched toward your father who had risen to his feet and was now glowering at you with crimson eyes. His lips were curled back in a sneer as he twirled his scythe threateningly. “You think that you can defeat me now that you have your darling sisters?” he demanded. “I am still your father. I brought you into this world and I can take you right out.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You met him halfway through the valley. 

Carol literally jumped the rest of the way as she brought down her lightning on him. The clouds darkened above you as the weather bent to her will.

Natasha came in from the ground, the earth shaking with every step. Her earthquakes tore crevices in the earth as she swept her trident in his direction. 

You charged him straight on, interlocking his weapon with yours and driving him back. You could feel the hellfire filling your body again and you channeled that heat to your bident, turning the black metal red with energy. 

The three of you struck him at once and it was magnificent.

Attacking from all sides, he didn’t know which way to look to defend himself. When he was fighting back the lightning, a bident and trident struck his side. When he fended off the bident and trident, lightning bit his back. 

You were vicious as you attacked, your anger and rage renewed with a vengeance. With your sisters at your side, you felt that there was nothing you couldn’t do.

And your father seemed to realize this too.

The red of his eyes intensified as he raised his weapon and slammed it into the ground. The wave of force that rolled out knocked you away from him. 

You flew back half a dozen feet, digging your heels into the ground to stop yourself from falling. 

He followed you closely, cutting an arc at you and slicing down your chest in your moment of vulnerability.

Gods, it hurt, but your healing was on overdrive and the pain didn’t last for long. And even if it had, you weren’t alone.

As you stumbled back, Natasha took your spot, locking the blade of his scythe in between two prongs of her trident and twisting it. The scythe was wrenched to the side, leaving his torso open for Carol to stab.

He roared in agony and swiped his hand at her, hitting her stomach with the full strength of an enraged titan.

With a thundering oof, she fell on the ground. She skidded several yards before coming to a stop and trying to muscle herself up. You could see the ichor already matting her hair down. It took a lot of force to break a god’s skin, but she’d been hit hard enough to do so.

Natasha, seeing her younger sister wounded, growled and readied herself. Using the force of the raging sea, she charged him, wielding her trident and aiming to strike him in the chest.

But Kronos was expecting her attack and spun around just in time to slice her side open with his scythe. Ichor spilled over the blade, coating it with gold.

Natasha screamed and fell back away from him, clutching her side and trying to speed up her healing process. 

You were the last daughter standing and Kronos turned his attention to you. His eyes burned red as he smirked and charged at you. You were the last threat and one he felt he could eliminate easily.

You weren’t thinking as you watched him come closer. You just waited for him to come, and when he was right on top of you, you did what any normal goddess would do: you shifted your grip on your bident so you were holding the base, pulled it back, and swung it like a bat with all your might.

The impact took him off guard and the prongs of your bident slashed his stomach as you hit him away from you. He flew across the field and landed with his back hitting a sharp boulder. His cry of pain rang out, drowning out all other noise.

He was down and—in that second—you knew you’d never get a chance like this again. He wasn’t defenseless by any means (he still had his scythe in his hand) but he was wounded and slower than normal. If you acted fast enough, you might just have a shot at ending it all here and now.

It could be quick. Just a simple blow to the chest to put a stop to this war for good. You could do it.

It wasn’t impossible to kill a titan—just very hard. Like all immortals, they could be killed by your weapons if struck correctly. A blow to the heart would do the trick.

You were getting excited at the prospect of finishing this and you glanced to the side to see if your sisters were feeling the same. But one look at them had your heart sinking in your chest. 

They were in no condition to help you end this. Their chests heaved with labored breaths as they stood bent over to conserve their strength. Natasha was nursing a gaping wound on her side and Carol was still recovering from her slide on the ground. They wouldn’t be quick enough to land the final blow.

You weren’t sure you’d be quick enough either for that matter, but you knew you had to try. This was a golden opportunity and your window was closing fast. You didn’t know if it would work, but you knew you had to at least give it everything you had—for all your sakes.

But the second you made up your mind, something caused you to hesitate, and looking around at your friends and family, you realized it was them. If this went south and you ended up wounded beyond repair, what were you leaving behind? A family you cherished and a man you…

A lump formed in your throat, threatening to suffocate you.

You’d be leaving behind a man you loved without even telling him you loved him.

Thinking back on it, you never had uttered those three simple words, and now you could possibly die without ever doing so. You couldn’t… You couldn’t just let him live out the remainder of his days without knowing that, despite everything, you really, truly loved him with every ounce of your being. 

So, the only logical option, should things go wrong, was to have a backup plan.

Swallowing a lump that had grown in your throat, you looked at your youngest sister. “Carol? Will you promise me something?” Your voice was heavy with premature grief, mourning the words you might never get to say. 

She didn’t seem to pick up on the solemn undertones in your voice. “Yeah, anything.”

You took a shaky breath. “If… If what I’m about to do doesn’t go the way I’m planning, tell Bucky that I love him for me.”

That got her attention. She turned her head towards you and narrowed her eyes. “(y/n)… What are you going to do?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago…” You tore your gaze away from her and focused on the titan still kneeling before you. Red clouded your vision as you steeled your nerves. “End this fucking war.”

You didn’t give her a chance to object because you knew she’d stop you if she had even a second. 

Before she could register the meaning of your words, you were sprinting at your father, power building in you every time your feet hit the ground. You were going to need all the strength you could get.

Your eyes never once left your father as you ran. 

He hadn’t changed at all. He still looked like he did when you’d fought him the first time. He still looked like he did when you were young and naive, just wanting your father’s love.

How many nights had you spent lying there thinking about him, about what you didn’t have—wondering what you could’ve done differently to avoid being eaten and avoid the war? How many times had you dreamt of what kind of a family you would be had things gone differently? Your father and mother would still be together. You and your sisters would’ve taken over ruling the universe when they decided to retire. He would join you and your mother for brunch. You could look in the mirror and admire your strong resemblance to him thinking, “Yeah, I look like my dad and that’s great.”

But things never worked out like that. He was a homicidal, power-hungry lunatic. There was no reasoning with him—no redemption. He would not stop until you and everyone you loved were dead. 

And so, hardening your heart, you took a literal leap of faith. 

The angle at which you fell gave you the perfect shot at his heart. You pointed your bident down, aiming for the critical hit.

His eyes narrowed at you as he tried to struggle to a sitting position. With a trembling hand, he lifted his scythe up to meet you. For a single second, you thought that he’d moved just in time; you thought that he was going to impale you instead.

But he was too weak.

And your aim was too true.

Your bident connected with his blade and the gold of the scythe shattered from the pure force of your strike. He had only a second to realize what you had done before it was too late. 

Before you fell on him and the prongs of your bident buried themselves in his chest, the tips cutting straight through his heart and pinning him to the ground. 

What remained of his scythe had fallen out of his hand as he sank back to the ground. His lips were parted as shallow gasps escaped his mouth. Ichor appeared at the corners of his lips and began to run down his face in thin rivulets, merging into the rather large pool that was forming around him. 

Your arms shook with force as you shoved the bident down further, burying the prongs in his chest until the hilt could move no more. You could feel the ribs breaking beneath the pressure and the muscle resisting the damage.

But he couldn’t stop you. 

He grunted as the metal shifted in him, and with a weak hand he reached up to grab the shaft. With all this might, he pushed at the vibranium in a desperate attempt to dislodge it from his chest.

But his strength had already left him. The push was nothing more than a slight force. It wasn’t hard to resist.

And it was then that he seemed to realize what had just happened.

It was then that he realized that he wasn’t going to make it out of this alive.

His breaths turned to wheezing as his punctured lungs tried to heal themselves. However, the unbreakable vibranium in his flesh prevented his healing from kicking in.

Fear filled his face as he gazed up at you, his firstborn and his killer, and he understood his death. He opened his mouth, but no words came out; only a strangled rasping you knew would haunt your dreams forever.

Death is a strange thing to see, you decided. The agonizingly slow pace of it can drive a person mad, and the pure horror of it is enough to terrorize even the strongest man. To know that this life before you is ending is a harrowing weight to bear on a soul. 

But, in this case, it was necessary.

You took a moment to just look at him; to see him alive one last time if nothing else. Despite the ichor covering his face, you could still see every feature that you shared.

The same hair, despite his being matted and coarse.

The same nose, despite the ichor leaking out the nostrils.

Even the same mouth, despite the chapped and bloody lips.

The same eyes…

His eyes that you’d stolen from him to make your own. 

His eyes and their color.

The red…

The red eyes that matched yours so perfectly began to dim with every passing second.

Because as his life left him and the light faded from his eyes, so too did the red—draining away until all that remained was a dull shade that mirrored your own (e/c) eyes perfectly.

Until he was gone.

Your legs gave out and you collapsed, clinging onto the bident and relying on it to be the only thing that held you up over his body. You sobbed. You wailed and cried and screamed as emotions, more intense than anything you had ever felt, washed over you: rage, loathing, guilt, and—most of all—grief.

The grief surprised you, but it was overwhelming.

It was all you could process.

The grief of losing a parent was one you never thought you’d know. Your mother was immortal, and you never really knew your father.

You should’ve hated him.

But your heart, the traitorous little thing it was, still harbored an ounce of love for him.

And it was only that ounce that was needed to feel this grief.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as your chest tried to cave in on itself. Your eyes squeezed shut as you shook your head. Your heart hurt. It hurt so bad you just wanted to rip it out of your chest and be done with it. You hated this feeling. You hated him for putting you through this—for putting you through all of it. 

But, at long last, it was over. It was done. 

Kronos was dead.

You were vaguely aware of your sisters’ presence above you, but it wasn’t until Carol grabbed your shoulders that you actually acknowledged them.

“(y/n),” Carol called softly, her voice as gentle as could be. “(y/n), you’re hurt. You need to let go.”

You didn’t respond to her. You couldn’t find your voice. Your heart seemed to have severed your vocal chords as well.

“It’s okay… You did it. You ended it. We can go home now. Just let him go.”

How could you? How could you just let him go? He was your father. He was supposed to be the one to tuck you in goodnight as a child and love you unconditionally. How could you just let him go?

“You’re okay. I promise you’re okay, but we can’t stay here. We need you home. Bucky needs you. We can’t stay here. We have to go.” Carol pulled gently on your shoulders, coaxing you away from the body. 

Your fingers gave way without any resistance, the shaft of your bident slipping out easily, and she led you away. 

You didn’t even have the strength to resist.


	24. Her Heart Betrays Her

You were hospitalized for a week for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Your mother insisted it be for at least that long, to monitor your health if nothing else. The battle against your father had left a gaping wound across your chest and damaged muscle in your shoulder and she had to be sure that you were healed enough to function. Despite your healing taking care of the situation within seventy-two hours, you remained in a hospital on Olympus for the full week.

Pietro was in and out of your room periodically but mostly left your care to the nymphs. He, after all, had a more pressing case on his hands than yours.

Bucky had been rushed to Olympus after Pietro got to him and emergency surgery was administered to remove the infected and burned tissue that made up his arm and prepare the flesh to be fitted with a prosthetic, should Bucky ask for one.

He was set up just rooms away from you, but you couldn’t make yourself get up to go see him. 

For one thing, his mother was constantly at his bedside, nursing the wounded god back to health as much as possible. You’d tried to go see him once, just after you were cleared for walking again, but—upon seeing Winnifred at his bedside—was turned away. The glare she’d shot you was so withering and filled with malice that there was no way you would’ve gotten near the god without her biting your head off. 

But, even if she wasn’t there at his side to guard him, you weren’t sure you’d be able to stand in his presence at all. After all, it was your fault he was hurt. He’d sacrificed his limb to save your life. If you’d never been in jeopardy at all, he might not be in this situation. 

The guilt you felt was overwhelming. Mixed in with the grief that held onto your heart, it was unbearable. 

You’d only seen Bucky once since the battle at Thessaly—in the dead of the night under the cover of darkness, stepping through the shadows where you could lurk silently and pretend you didn’t exist. You’d forced yourself into his room to reassure yourself that he was alive. But after checking him for a pulse and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead, you vanished, melting back into the shadows and reappearing in your bed, trying (and failing) to hold back anguished tears.

The guilt you felt kept you away, but, in reality, this was probably best anyway. 

After all, there’s no rest for a goddess.

Carol and Natasha had been briefed on how Kronos and his brothers escaped and a global manhunt for Pierce and Brock was issued. Any god, goddess, nymph, or otherwise who was able-bodied was ordered by the Queen of Olympus herself to hunt down the traitors to Olympus. You’d been informed of this twenty-four hours after the hunt had been issued, on the fourth day of your recovery.

You were unsurprised when Carol came in to tell you what she’d done and that they’d been found and apprehended. Of course, you knew that they’d have to face the consequences of their actions and you figured that it wouldn’t take them long to find them.

She told you delicately that Pierce, your previous lieutenant, and Brock, your ex-lover, were in the palace now, bound in the unbreakable chains and being held in the dungeon as they awaited trial.

The “trial” (if that was even what you could call it) took place the following day. You were kept away from it on account of your continuous recovery (despite the fact that the cuts had faded to ugly scars and you were doing everything as normal as usual) and so you did not attend. But Natasha came to you after to deliver the verdict. 

The price of their betrayal, in this case, and of this magnitude, was death. 

You should’ve expected this, but it still made your heart drop.

You couldn’t have cared less about Pierce’s fate. He’d never been your favorite in the Underworld and his actions against you were motivated by pure greed and selfishness. He’d betrayed the gods for himself, hoping to lift his ranking in the world and kill you.

But Brock… Brock’s punishment hurt you.

As much as his betrayal destroyed you, you didn’t want him to die for it. His betrayal had been misguided. He’d been under the impression that he would have you back if he helped the titans rise to power. As twisted as his actions had been and as much as you hated him for them, you still couldn’t make yourself wish death upon him.

Because it wasn’t really death that awaited him; it was annihilation. 

They didn’t have to explicitly say that, but you all knew it to be true. Annihilation was really the only fate for an immortal.

And odds were you were going to be the one to carry it out. After all, the only weapons in existence that could kill an immortal had either been destroyed or were in the possession of you and your sisters and you were the goddess of the dead and the Underworld. It was only natural that you’d be the executioner, no matter how much you hated it.

———

You hated your executioner gear. You despised the heavy black cloak and the black armor. You loathed the way it felt to wear them, feeling their weight flow directly to your heart and make it sink in your chest like a stone. You hated your bident, knowing that it was about to take a life.

It felt like eons since you’d last donned the uniform. It was the execution of Erebus that enabled you to become the goddess of deep darkness and shadows which had been over a thousand years ago. One of the good things about living in Olympus with as small of a community as you did was that no one ever really fucked up so badly they had to die.

Because of this, executions were few and far between; but that just made the ones that did happen that much more important and official.

All the gods dressed in their traditional robes. Carol would wear the purest white with her crown of lightning on her head. Natasha would dress in the ocean embodied in fabric with a crown of waves resting on her hair.

You dressed in the emptiest of blacks—literal shadows forming your cloak and armor—while donning a crown of precious gold swirling with the souls of the damned.

From there, the others would dress according to their role and domain, all looking regal and magnificent. 

You could sense them gathering in the town square outside the palace from where you stood in a guest room, preparing yourself for the emotionally-taxing event to come. Your body was fully healed and you’d been released from the hospital a few days ago. Carol had agreed to postpone the execution until you were well enough, but you could tell that she and the others were just itching for it to be over with. The remaining titans had already been sent back to Tartarus with reinforced prisons and this was the final obstacle standing in the way of normalcy. Once the traitors had been dealt with, the gods could return to the way things were before the panic that was the titans.

You overlooked the square where the gods were gathering. The execution stand had been set up in the center with two chopping blocks where the two prisoners were to be set up. It wouldn’t be long before Pierce and Brock were chained up and you would kill them. Opposite of the stand stood a raised platform where three thrones had been erected. Carol’s stood in the center with yours to the right and Natasha’s to the left. Though regal and begging for their occupants, you knew that one of them would remain vacant. 

You pulled anxiously at the laces that held your bracer on your arm. Your stomach churned and you found yourself wishing that you could be anywhere else.

Your unease was surprising to you. You’d never been this queasy at an execution before. In fact, you’d taken lives as mercilessly as death. But this one was different.

Probably because of _who_ was being executed.

Knowing that Brock was about to die brought you more discomfort than you wanted to admit. It chilled you to the bone to think of him on that execution block, destroyed by your own hand. If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine that none of this had come to pass. You could almost imagine that you were in bed with him a whole century ago, your head on his bare chest and his arms secured around your waist. 

What would’ve happened if this last year and a half had never happened? Would you still be with Brock, happily in denial about the reality of your relationship? Would things have been different? Would he never have felt the need to betray you in order to win you back? Would he not be dying today?

You had no doubt about Pierce’s fate. The god was corrupted by your father, enticed by the power he was promised. He would’ve betrayed you regardless and been sentenced to death. 

Of course, this alone possessed an issue for you. Pierce was a god and he had dominion over a necessary part of life: death. With his death, his dominion would be orphaned and the title of god of death would have to be passed on to a willing god.

But what god would take it? Everyone avoided death like the plague, especially the Olympians. That left you and you alone to take it over.

You didn’t mind this fate, but it scared you. Being the goddess of death would be a full-time job on its own. It demanded that you help lead the mortals to the Underworld when they die so that they don’t get stuck in the Mortal World. It wasn’t something you hadn’t done before, but millions of mortals died every day. You wouldn’t have the time to do such a task. 

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts and you shuddered free. You let go of your laces and straightened up before calling out, “Come in!”

The hinges squealed as the door was pushed open and the sound of heels hitting the tile filled the room. “How are you doing?” came the voice of your youngest sister.

You breathed a chuckle and glanced over your shoulder at her. “Never better. My boyfriend is in the hospital and I’m about to kill my ex and my lieutenant. Life’s shaping up to be great.”

“You know, a little less sarcasm wouldn’t kill you.” The smile on Carol’s face was teasing as she sat down on the bed. 

“Actually, I live off of sarcasm so yes, it very well could kill me.” You turned around to face her and crossed your arms, a small smile of your own creeping onto your lips. “You don’t have to worry about me Carol, I’m fine.”

“Then why don’t I believe you?” She hummed and leaned forward. “How are you really handling all of this? The execution, Bucky, Dad’s death… I can’t imagine that any of it is easy on you.”

“It’s not, but when did life ever ask me what I wanted?” You hung your head. “Misfortune is not something I’m a stranger to. As shitty as it is, I’m used to something going wrong in some way or another. I think it comes with the territory.”

“I’m really sorry, (y/n).”

“Don’t be… It’s not your fault they did what they did. It’s not your fault that Dad was a psychopath or that Brock and Pierce… That they decided to follow him. They’re grown men. They made their own decisions. I just… I just wish…” The words were trapped in your throat.

“You just wish that it didn’t have to end in death.”

You nodded. “Pierce I understand. He’s a danger to us all so long as he lives. But Brock…”

She stood and crossed the room to you. Placing her hand on your shoulder, she gave you a weak smile. “I know you guys have a history together—one that I’ll probably never understand—and I know that he means something to you, but the law is the law. He’s already proven that we can’t trust him. He poisoned you, (y/n). He helped set our father free. We can’t just have someone like that running freely around Olympus.”

“I know.” Your voice was a ghost of a whisper as you lowered your gaze. “But that doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I know you don’t, and I’m sorry it had to come to this.” 

You didn’t say anything; you just hung your head. You hated this situation more than you would say. You knew they had to die, but you weren’t ready for it.

“Hey…” Carol said after a while. “Why don’t… Why don’t you sit this one out? I can take care of the… The execution. You don’t have to do this.”

That caught your attention. You looked up, your eyes widening. “Really?”

“Yeah! It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do anything official like this. Besides… You shouldn’t have to have that on your conscience.”

A weak smile pulled at your lips and you nodded. “Thank you, Carol.”

“Don’t mention it.” She rubbed small circles on your shoulder and took a step back. 

Given distance from her, you sighed. “Pierce is dying today.”

“Yes, he is.”

“He is the god of death. His dominion will be orphaned after he is gone.”

“I know. We’re going to have to find him a replacement.”

“You know that none of the Olympians will take it.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“And I know you and Nat can’t, so…”

“So you will?”

“I suppose I’ll have to. I just don’t know how I’m going to balance that with running the Underworld.”

“You really can’t.”

“I know…”

She bit her lip and shifted her weight. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“But you have to.”

“I do…” She exhaled sharply. “But, if you do it, I can promise that it will only be temporary—just until I can find a permanent replacement.”

“You can do that?”

“I’m the queen of the gods. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

That drew a laugh out of you and you nodded. “Yeah, I guess you can.”

“So you’ll take it temporarily?”

“Yeah. But you better find a replacement quick or I might just die from the stress.”

“Duly noted.” She smiled softly and looked around the room. “Will you stay up here during the execution?”

Pressing your lips together, you shook your head. “No. I think I will go down for the execution. It would be informal to exclude one of the three queens.” You turned away from Carol and looked down at the pavilion where the gods had begun taking their places. Apprehension and foreboding took hold of your heart as you said, “I can manage it.”

———

Despite the sun beating down on Olympus, the air was cold. Your throne was chilled to the touch as you sat there. Your foot taped anxiously on the ground as your eyes stayed locked on your sister. 

Carol stood on the execution platform, her staff of lightning towering above her head as it hummed and crackled with raw power. The light oozing from its surface was blinding.

You’d only seen the awesome weapon a handful of times; once when it was being forged, once during the first Titanomachy, and most recently when you fought and killed your father just days ago. And now it was about to execute a god and a naiad.

She was stiff as she looked out over the assembled Olympians. She took a deep breath and a hush fell over the crowd as the event began. 

“Citizens of Olympus,” she called out, her voice magnified in the square. “We have come here today to deliver justice to those who have betrayed us. Their fate is not one that we would wish upon anyone, but it is necessary. In order to safeguard our peace and preserve our safety, the traitors have been sentenced to death. I, Carol, Queen of Olympus, shall officiate this execution. Now, bring forth the traitors.”

Tony was the one to obey her orders, emerging from thin air and holding onto an unbreakable chain of his own creation. 

Pierce was the first into the light, his wings trembling under the sun and his hands and feet bound in shackles that were attached to the chain Tony was holding. He’d grown paler in just the week of his imprisonment. He wore a scowl on his face as he glared at the gods. He was angry with them. He wanted to lash out and try and kill them all.

But he would not. His bindings prevented it. In addition to being unbreakable, they also inhibited all powers and godly abilities. So long as he was held by them, he would not be able to do anything.

Brock emerged seconds later, more mellow and resigned than his predecessor. He looked defeated and miserable. Filled with guilt, he couldn’t even look up at the gods that watched him. The blue in his cheeks was more pronounced in the shadow of shame. You could tell just from his posture that he regretted everything that led up to this moment. 

But what was done was done and he and Pierce were being led to their death.

Tony took them onto the platform and shoved them down to their knees in front of the chopping blocks. He secured Pierce’s shackles to the ground first, knowing that the god would try anything if given the chance. The naiad, on the other hand, was more placid and obedient.

You could feel your heart trying to crawl up your throat so it could run away. It didn’t want to be here any more than you did.

Your hands tightened on your armrests and you gripped the vibranium so tightly you were sure that you were denting it. Your crown was heavy on your head, adding to the stress you already felt. Your stomach churned and your body trembled. Your breathing was growing heavy.

But nobody paid you any attention. You hardly even paid yourself attention as you watched Carol tower over the men bound before her. She addressed Pierce first, her eyes beginning to glow white with power. Her stare was cold as stone as she thundered, “Alexander Pierce, god of death, you are guilty of treason against Olympus, conspiring against the gods, collaborating with our most ancient enemy, freeing the titans, and the attempted murder of the Queen of Hades. For this, the decided punishment is death. Have you any last words?”

His piercing blue eyes fluttered up and scanned all of the gods until they settled on you and iced over with malice. “I have none,” he said, his voice low and even, “save for: I only regret that I did not succeed in killing you, (y/n). Death would’ve been such a good look on you.” 

“And I’m sure it will be the same on you,” you said casually as you met his eyes. You would not miss looking into those eyes one bit. Tearing your gaze away from him, you looked up at Carol.

Her white eyes met yours and she hesitated for a second. Her posture begged your permission to carry on.

You simply gave a slight nod of your head.

Taking your approval, Carol took a deep breath and gripped her staff tighter. “Your time has come. May the Fates have mercy on your immortal soul.” She lifted her staff over her head, positioning it so it would fall on his neck. With one swift and powerful movement, she pulled it down and it crashed on his skin.

With a scream of agony, he burst into ash. The power had been too much for even his immortal body to handle and he vaporized on the spot.

You turned your eyes away from the scene and suppressed a shudder

If there was one good thing about these executions, it was that there was no body to clean up because there was no body left behind.

Nothing remained of the god. The only things that even suggested his existence were the shackles that had fallen to the ground and a ball of black light that hovered over the execution block.

At once the gods broke out into murmuring as they eyed the ball warily. They could feel the death and decay radiating from it and so could you.

After all, it was death itself.

The ball of light was death, Pierce’s dominion concentrated into one area and left without a vessel.

Carol set her staff down on the platform and walked over to the ball. She held her hands around it, careful not to touch it, and looked out over the crowd. “The god of death is dead. His successor must be named. Who will step up and claim this role?”

There was an uncomfortable murmur among the gods as you expected. No one wanted it. It was a good thing you’d already accepted your fate. 

Shoving yourself into a standing position, you rolled your shoulders back and raised your hand. “I will, for a temporary amount of time. A replacement will need to be found for me but until then… _I, (y/n) Aidoneus, accept the role of goddess of death. I take on this role being of sound mind and of my own volition, therefore claiming all of its responsibilities and obligations. I swear to uphold the position and carry out its requirements until a time when it can be claimed permanently. Allow me to embrace this position, and seal me as the goddess of death._”

The orb was before you in an instant as it sank into your chest. You could feel the chill of death seeping in, spreading to your fingers and your toes until you were as cold as ice. You felt the vacancy, the absence of life, filling you to the core. 

It was hard to breathe for a moment as your body adjusted to the intruder, but it wasn’t long before you were accepting death as if it had been yours for a long, long time. Finding your breath again, you gave a curt cough and sat back down. Looking at Carol, you nodded your head.

It’s been done.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad it’d taken well. Now there was one less thing on her plate. “Very good, then,” she said, her voice commanding attention once more. “Let us continue.” She turned her gaze to Brock and the white of her eyes intensified. “Brock Rumlow, naiad of the River Cocytus, you are guilty of treason against Olympus, aiding the god of death in the liberation of the titans, conspiring against the gods, and the attempted murder of the Queen of Hades. For this, the decided punishment is death. Have you any last words?”

For the first time that day, you allowed yourself to look at Brock and really let his appearance set in.

He was scared. You could see it in his eyes. He’d never been able to hide that sort of thing from you. But more than scared, he looked sad and defeated. He felt like he deserved this—he did deserve this. He wasn’t paying any attention to the powerful gods around him as he knelt on the chopping block. Instead, his chin was tilted up and those brown eyes you’d gazed into so many times were set on you. He gave you a weak smile as he met your eyes and he nodded. “Yeah… Just a few.” He swallowed thickly. “I’m… I’m sorry, Precious,” he said addressing you. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I should’ve treated you better. I just didn’t know how to and I’m sorry for that. Please… Find it in your heart to forgive me.”

You couldn’t breathe. Your heart had climbed so far up in your throat that it blocked all airways. Your eyes burned as you stared at him. This man had been your first love, your love for the longest time. Never in a million years would you have guessed you’d be where you were now. You wished this was all some sick dream, that it never had to come to this.

You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this. Brock had tried to kill you, after all. He’d abused you for so many years and left you broken time after time. You should’ve hated him—should’ve been glad he was about to die. But your heart betrayed you, filling you with a sadness you wished you’d never known. You could feel pain rising up in your belly as red filled the edge of your vision.

Having said his fill, Brock closed his eyes and bowed his head over the block as he accepted his fate. 

Carol took that as her cue as she took a deep breath and tightened her grip on her weapon. “Brock Rumlow, your time has come. May the Fates have mercy on your immortal soul.”

You saw the world move in slow motion. Carol pulled her staff above her head again, poising to bring it down on his neck.

Brock tensed as he braced himself to follow Pierce in death.

You saw the lightning flash, heard it crackle as Carol brought her staff down in an arc. Sparks flew through the air as it rained down onto Brock.

Fire erupted in your stomach and flowed throughout your body, possessing you to stand and scream, “Stop!” The world was fully red now and your chest was rising and falling with labored breaths.

The lightning halted just centimeters away from his neck, and both Carol and Brock looked up at you in surprise.

You could only imagine how wild you looked. The world was clouded with red so you knew that your irises had already turned, but the red alone did not cast insanity on your figure. Your lips were parted in desperation and you were almost lunging at the pair. 

Carol frowned up at you as she retracted her weapon. “(y/n)?”

“Stop,” you repeated again, your voice a shallow whisper. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Kill him. Please don’t kill him.” The heart of a younger goddess had its hold on you. Suddenly you were young again, gazing at Brock through the eyes of someone who had loved him at one point. And though the feelings had gone and died, the urge to protect him had not.

“What?” Carol was confused as she looked up at you. “But, (y/n), he poisoned you. He tried to kill—”

“I know what he did!” you snapped, your voice thundering out, amplified by the surrounding silence. “I was there for his confession, but I can’t let you kill him.”

She set the lightning down at her side, the base of it painfully close to Brock’s face. “And why not?”

“Because I…” You what? You didn’t love him, that was for damn sure, but you couldn’t make yourself loathe him. Despite all the evil he had done towards you and your family, you couldn’t let him die. You’d invested too much of yourself in him. To let him be executed now in front of you would tear your heart in two. Despite where you were with him now, he was your first love, and you couldn’t just let that go.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked down from the dais, locking your eyes with Carol and shoving as much pleading as you could into them. “I can’t let him die. Please, Carol, punish him, but don’t take his life.”

Brock stared at you, his mouth agape, and he mumbled, “Precious…”

Carol slammed her staff into the ground, causing sparks to fly. “Silence,” she hissed, her voice deadly, before looking at you, taking in your desperation. At once she understood. You could see it in the way her eyes softened when she saw your desperation and in the way her grip on the staff of lightning relaxed. She was silent for a few moments, glancing around at the assembly of gods before looking back down to the man whose head sat upon the chopping block.

Letting out a heavy breath, she said, “Very well.”

There was no reaction from the gods, though you could tell they wanted to protest. This was the man that had aided one of their greatest enemies escape, who had poisoned one of their own (although distant and often disliked) and who had betrayed them. They wanted him dead, but they knew better than to go against the decision of a queen.

A weight was suddenly lifted off your chest and you could breathe again. You eased yourself back down onto your throne, your heart hammering in your chest as you looked at Carol expectantly.

Carol looked back at Brock, her eyes beginning to glow white. After a moment of deliberation, she seemed to settle on a new punishment. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her staff and pointed it at Brock’s head. 

He flinched away from the light, squeezing his eyes shut as if the action would shield him from whatever she was about to do.

She didn’t care, and when she spoke, her voice was filled with untamed and absolute power. “Brock Rumlow, naiad of the River Cocytus, you have been pardoned from the ultimate punishment of death. However, your treasonous crimes against the Queen of Hades and the gods of Olympus still stand and thus you must be punished accordingly.” She inhaled sharply and lifted her staff over his head, letting it hover there threateningly. “I hereby strip you of your immortality, damning you to live and die among the mortals. You will never again walk with the gods or spirits you called friend or foe. You will live out the rest of your days bearing the weight of your sins and your crimes, and when you die, you will be condemned to the nothingness of the Asphodel Meadows. Never again will you be welcomed on Olympus or experience the comforts of immortality. May the Fates have mercy on your mortal soul.”

As soon as the last few syllables were spoken, the punishment took effect. The blue drained from Brock’s face, the markings that identified him as an immortal naiad vanished, and his skin took on the rosy hue that most mortals had. The change wasn’t drastic, but it was obvious to you; in those few seconds, he became human—mortal.

Brock gasped for air as the change took hold on his body and he crumpled to the ground. You could only imagine how painful it would be to have such a big part of you stolen away, but you wagered it was better than an immortal death. 

Carol paid no attention to him as she turned to address the gods. “This concludes the execution,” she said, her voice dismissive. “Thank you all for attending. Never again will the guilty threaten our safety. We can rest in peace. The second Titanomachy is over, once and for all.”

No one but you stuck around long. Natasha stayed by your side, seated in her own throne. Carol waited until most gods had gone before turning to you. “I will take him to the Mortal World. Will you be okay?”

You didn’t need to ask who she spoke of. You nodded, not looking down at the mortal before you. “Yes. Thank you, Carol. I appreciate it more than you know.”

She smiled softly. “You ask so little of me; it was the least I could do for you. I will make sure he has arrangements, though they will not be the most luxurious.”

“I would expect nothing else.”

She turned her eyes to Nat. “Would you come with me? It’s been a while since I’ve been among mortals.”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, turning to you to see if you needed her. 

You simply waved your hand. “Go on. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself.”

Chuckling, Natasha nodded. “Then yes. Let’s go as soon as possible. I’m starving and don’t want this to take all day.”

In the blink of an eye, they were gone and you were left alone.

Well, almost alone.

Two gods lingered in the square.

Tony stood at the base of your platform and smiled up at you. “You sure you’re alright, kid?”

“Yeah, Tony,” you said, standing and approaching him. Despite your status, it was rude to tower over him. You crossed over to the edge of the platform and sat down so you were level with him. “I’m just stressed.”

Pepper stood beside him, leaning into him. The woman’s eyes were soft as she looked you over. “We can tell. It’s not just this execution that was stressing you out, was it?”

You pursed your lips and let out a soft sigh. No, it wasn’t. Sure it had been the main cause of your distress, but now that it was over, you were still on edge.

“It’s a boy,” Tony said, but it wasn’t a question. It was more like he knew exactly what he was talking about.

A boy… It was Bucky… 

You chuckled and hung your head. “Yeah… I guess it is. How did you know?”

“Cause I was in with him the other day getting him fit for a prosthetic. He misses you. He was asking about you and, even though I told him I don’t talk to you much, he wouldn’t quit. He said that I was the only god he could really ask. His mother doesn’t like you and Pietro is too busy with his medicine to really check in on you. I was the only one he could ask.”

He missed you. Well, if you didn’t feel like shit before, you did now.

You couldn’t go see him yet. No, the guilt of being the cause of his pain was too much. If not for you, he would’ve never lost his arm, would’ve never thrown caution to the wind like that. If you’d never met him he would’ve never gone through the pain and heartache you forced him into. You couldn’t see him until you had something to absolve you of your guilt and by holding off, you were just putting him through more pain. 

Besides, you weren’t emotionally-able to take that on just yet. With the death of your father and lieutenant and the exile of your ex-lover, you weren’t able to tolerate anything else that would tug at your heartstrings; you didn’t have the capacity to deal anymore. You couldn’t see him or let him see you like this.

You hung your head. “I can’t go see him… I can’t handle it right now.”

“It’s alright, (y/n),” Pepper cooed, putting her hand on your shoulder to soothe you. “We get it. You’ve been through a lot these past few days.”

“I know… I just… ” You exhaled sharply and doubled over, folding your hands over your knees and letting your forehead rest atop them. “I just don’t know what to do now. For the first time in my life, I have nothing. No cards left to play. I have no control.”

“You could always come to the forges,” Tony said, his voice kind and gentle. “Y’know, whenever I get stressed and feel like the world is out of control, I build. It helps me take my mind off of things and gives me something that is mine and mine alone. Besides, it’s nice to do something with your hands. I can teach you if you want. It could be therapeutic.”

You lifted your eyes to look at him. “Really?”

“Of course. You’ve just gotta deal with my insanity.” He gave you a lopsided grin. “You don’t have to make up your mind now, but my doors are always open if—”

“Yes.”

“Pardon?”

“Yes, I’ll come and work with you. Just until I can get my mind set straight again.” You took a deep breath. “So, when can I begin?”


	25. She Mends a Body and a Heart

The fires of Hell seemed dull compared to the fires of the forge. 

They were hot. They made you tired. They cast a ghastly glow over the walls.

But there was no place you’d rather be. 

Tony was right; having complete control over your own project was therapeutic. And the project you were working on was even more so.

You were constructing Bucky’s prosthetic arm. 

As an amateur builder, you didn’t know if it was such a good idea to be responsible for such a major task, but Tony had assured and reassured you time and time again that you could do it. He told you that he was confident in your ability and that he would be there to help you if you needed it. 

You worked day and night on your project, sculpting the arm and embedding it with nerve endings and mechanics to make it function properly. Tony helped you with the exact operations to make it like a real arm, but the whole thing was crafted by you. You took the measurements Tony had taken and used them to build his arm. It was surprising how easy it was for you, but you had a feeling that Tony was giving his divine blessing to you to make you more adept and capable. You appreciated this.

You made Bucky’s arm out of vibranium—the rarest metal on earth—and embedded it with rivers of gold. You crafted it with tender care and love, each detail added painstakingly to make it perfect. You would settle for nothing less than perfection. He deserved nothing less than perfection.

You spent a month and a half working. Peggy took over running the Underworld and Clint volunteered to lead all of the dead mortal souls to the afterlife for you while you were in the forge which allowed you to devote all your time and energy to your project. You appreciated them immensely. You needed this break.

You found that Tony was right: working on something you controlled entirely allowed you to cope. With every passing day, you found yourself losing tension in your body. A weight was being lifted from your shoulders.

You accepted your father’s death, finding the strength to move on. It was surprising how easy it was to push past his death, but, then again, you did hate his guts. You’d spent the majority of your life keeping him in the corner of your mind, letting him plague you always. You let the trauma he’d inflicted fester without fully forgiving it and healing. But now that he was dead, you were able to let it go, and, as the month came to a close and your project neared its completion, you felt lighter than ever.

It was liberating.

“Hey, kid!”

You looked up from the arm you were working on. You’d been polishing the metal and buffing out the blemishes with heat. Your hand glowed hot with hellfire embedded in your skin and you pulled it off as you looked at Tony. “Yeah?”

He had his bag slung over his shoulder and a lopsided grin on his face. “I’m calling it quits early tonight. I’m taking Pepper out for a date.”

“Alright.”

“Will you lock up if you leave? I trust you in my forge, but I don’t like it open if it’s unattended.”

You understood this so you nodded. “We both know I’m not leaving, but yes I will if I do go.”

“Thanks! You’re the greatest!”

You heard the heavy forge door slam shut behind him and you were left alone. You almost preferred it like this. 

Left to your own devices, you warmed your hands again and began to even out the rougher parts of the surface. This was the finishing touch, really. It had already been tested for flexibility and function and, after one simple procedure, the arm would be a perfect replacement for the one that Bucky had lost in the battle.

You just hoped he’d accept it. It was crafted to be your apology to him. It was an offering to say “I’m sorry for getting you hurt. I’m sorry you lost your arm because of me. I’m sorry if I’m not worth it.” You hoped that the love you’d put into this gift would be enough to earn his forgiveness and show him that you still cared.

The creaking of the heavy forge door pulled you from your thoughts, but you didn’t look up. “Forget something, Tony?” you called out as you took your hands off it and allowed them to cool. Taking a soft cloth from the work table, you used it to polish the surface of the metal.

There was a pause before a voice that definitely wasn’t Tony’s responded, “No. I have come to talk to you.”

Your hands stilled and you slowly brought your eyes up to meet Winnifred’s.

She looked dressed for gardening in a pair of simple jeans and a green blouse. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose bun. She was pale and dark circles rimmed her eyes. She looked exhausted. She met your eyes without delay, though you could see the slight anxiety in her posture. She was nervous about something, though you couldn’t tell what.

Perhaps it was because your hands were glowing with heat.

You stood up straighter, taking your hands off your project. “Winnifred,” you said, your voice adopting formal diplomacy, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

She looked uncomfortable under your gaze as she shifted her weight from side to side. “I… I wanted to talk to you. Privately.” She was quick to add on that last part as her eyes darted around.

“Well, we are the only ones in the whole forge. This is about as private as it gets.” You weren’t going to leave. You were still working and leaving would just disrupt your progress. You looked back down at your project and continued to polish the arm’s surface. “What is it that you need?”

“It’s about my son.”

Your motion faltered for only a second. Anxiety began to bubble up in your chest. “Wh-What about him? Is he alright?” you asked, your voice fighting to stay calm and even. 

“Yes! Yes, he’s fine. Everything is progressing well in his recovery. He’s doing well.”

“Then why have you come?” You didn’t understand why she would come all this way to visit a person she loathed.

Winnifred hung her head as if she weren’t quite sure of the answer herself. “I wanted to thank you!” she finally blurted after a short pause. The suddenness of the claim startled you both and she looked taken aback by her own words. She hung her head.

It was… odd to see her like this, all submissive and repentant. There had been a time when Winnifred was nothing but snarky with you at council meetings or in the streets. She hated you with a burning passion and was never afraid to let you know it. But now she was almost reverent for once. She was tiptoeing around her words and choosing them carefully. She was watching her tongue and actions and keeping them in check. It unnerved you to be treated with such respect by her. You supposed that this was a result of your explosion on her after the council meeting despite it being months ago.

You frowned at her. “For what? I haven’t done anything for you.”

“For saving my son’s life.” She took a deep breath and glanced up. “I… I watched him try to fight the titan to save you, but you dove in front of him in time to stop the blow and when he… when he…” Her voice cracked and she pressed her lips together tightly. Her eyes found the ceiling and stayed there for moments on end. You could see her eyes reddening. “When he lost his arm… You were there to stop the bleeding. You saved his life and I… I know we’ve had our differences and I really don’t like you, but I have to thank you for that. You saved my son and for that, I owe you everything.”

“You owe me nothing.” You sighed and hung your head. “I would’ve saved him regardless. I couldn’t bear it if Bucky were killed because of me. He’s too precious to me.” You breathed a laugh and shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me for something I would’ve done anyways. Besides…” You shrugged and placed your hand on the prosthetic once more. Dragging it against the vibranium before you, you watched your reflection become clearer. “My life wouldn’t be complete if he wasn’t a part of it.”

Winnifred fell silent, her expression conflicted. “You love him, don’t you?” she asked, her voice as quiet as a whisper.

You nodded. “Yeah. I do. With all my heart.”

“I should’ve guessed.” She sounded resigned by your confession as if she expected this. “I really don’t like it, but I suppose I don’t have much of a choice. My son is grown; he can make his own decisions on who he loves.”

“And you really don’t have the power to stop me,” you added nonchalantly.

“Don’t remind me.” She pursed her lips. “You should go to him.”

You paused. “I’m sorry?”

“Go to him. In the hospital. He asks for you every day, wondering if you’d gone to see him. He’ll never ask me, but one of the nymphs brought it to my attention after the tenth time he’d asked for you. He’s quite confused as to why you haven’t gone to see him yet.”

“I did see him… Once…” And he was sleeping. You hung your head. “I can’t face him yet. Knowing what I’ve done to hurt him, I don’t deserve to see him—not until I’ve finished.” 

Winnifred’s eyes trailed down to the prosthetic you were working on. “Is that for him?”

“To replace the one that was stolen by my father,” you confirmed. “I can’t leave until it’s complete.”

“When will that be?”

“Soon.” You paused in your work and looked up at her again, your gaze unsure. “Do you really think I should go to him?”

“I do. I know he loves you more than he’s ever loved another. He needs you, (y/n). Please, don’t keep away from him too long—for both your sakes.”

You frowned at her. “Why are you doing this?”

She shrugged as she took a step back, beginning to make her way to the door once more. “I’m not sure myself. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally accepted that my little boy has grown up. He’s going to love you whether I approve or not. I’d rather not lose him over something silly like this. Just… Promise me you’ll take care of him? He’s still so young and I fear for him every day. But… If he had the Queen of Hell protecting him, then I might just sleep a little better.”

You smiled softly at her and nodded. “I promise.”

An understanding between you was forged in that moment—one where she finally accepted you as a part of her son’s life and where you vowed to love him. After years of bickering and animosity, you finally found it in yourselves to tolerate each other.

———

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood in the white halls of the hospital. You felt out of place in your dark clothes and a large prosthetic wrapped in cloth in your arms. It’d been a while since you’d last been here and you wanted nothing more than to get out.

But you had to be here. He was calling you—pulling you to his side.

Behind the door, inside room 107, your love lay in wait for you. He didn’t know you were here, but you figured that he could sense you. Your aura had grown stronger since the execution when you took on another domain and you reeked of death. It was not a good omen for a hospital, but you had to be here all the same. You only wondered how Bucky would react to you after being apart for so long.

You knew you didn’t have to be nervous; this was Bucky after all. You loved him and he loved you. But you still feared the worst. What if he was disgusted by the very sight of you? Appalled by what you had become? Would he send you away? Would he ask to never see you again?

Logically you knew that each situation was more unlikely than the last, but you were still afraid. You were afraid of being rejected by the only man you truly loved. 

You glanced down at the white cloth that covered the arm you’d built for him. Would he accept it? Would it even fit him? You’d done your best to make it exactly like the left arm he’d lost, but was it enough? Was it suitable for a god?

There was only one way to find out.

Steeling your nerves and shifting the prosthetic to one side, you slowly raised your fist and knocked on the door of his room.

“Come in!” urged the voice of a god and you stopped for only a second. Gods… How you’d missed his voice…

You swallowed the lump in your throat and slowly opened the door. 

The room had taken on Bucky’s personality over the weeks he’d been here. When you first visited, it’d been bare and sterile. There’d been no color. But now it was lively. Bouquets of flowers filled almost every available surface and the room was bright. The colors made you dizzy, there were so many and so vibrant.

The only occupant in the room was sitting on the bed and your eyes found him immediately. He wasn’t looking at you yet and this gave you time to appreciate him. 

His hair had grown out a considerable amount. At least two inches had sprouted, giving length and volume to those locks you loved. He’d grown a short stubble of a beard as well. You could only imagine how prickly it was. He looked good. His skin was tan and warm and he had a small smile on his face as he looked down at the book that was opened in his lap. His hand fondled the page, rubbing the paper between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand… His other hand wasn’t there nor was his arm. The hospital gown covered the stump that remained, but you could see the bandages peeking out from under the short sleeve. It was pure white and haunting—a chilling reminder of what had provided it. 

Bucky’s eyes stayed on his book as he turned the page. “Is it time for my meds again?” he asked, his voice even and expectant.

You forced your voice to work as you set the prosthetic arm down on a side table that had a bit of spare space. “I… I don’t know. Do you usually take medicine at,” you paused to look at the clock, “1:30 in the afternoon?” You crossed your arms and hugged your body anxiously.

His head snapped up as he heard your voice, his blue eyes going wide with disbelief. His lips parted in a silent gasp. His gaze was filled with wonder as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room. He whispered your name like a desperate prayer. “You came…”

“I came.” You offered him a weak smile as you took a step into the room. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but I—”

He was out of the bed in an instant, his legs making wide strides over to you. You had to drop your arms as he engulfed you in a tight hug. His arm clutched you tightly, his fingers digging into your back as he buried his face in your neck. “You came,” he repeated, his breath warming your skin.

You shivered beneath him as you wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him just as tightly if not more. Oh, how you’d missed this—missed him. You clung to him desperately, taking in every inch of him. Your face was wet. Tears streamed down your face, dampening his hospital gown. But you didn’t care. You just wanted to hold him and be held by him.

His shoulders shook with silent sobs as he held you tight like he couldn’t believe you were there. You could only imagine what was running through his mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the second syllable. “I’m so, so sorry for everything. For all the pain—”

“Shh…” He shook his head in your neck. “You don’t have to apologize, Doll.” He pulled away ever so slightly, letting his hand fall from your back and rise to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed your tears away and he gave you a watery smile. Tears of his own were starting to fall from his eyes as he gazed at you. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Your lips trembled as you looked him over your eyes falling on his left shoulder. “But… I hurt you.” Your shaky hand reached out to what remained of his left arm but you stopped before you actually touched him.

“You didn’t do this to me, (y/n),” he said taking your hand and guiding it to his arm. He let your hand linger on his wound, not even flinching. You figured that it had mostly—if not fully—healed by now with immortality helping him. “You are not responsible for this. Your father is. But, from what I heard, he’s gone now.”

“He is. I made sure of that.” 

“I’m sorry.” he inhaled sharply and leaned forward to press his lips against your forehead. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I… I wish I could’ve been there for you, but I wasn’t. Now, for that, you will need to forgive me.”

You stared up at him, a soft smile covering your lips. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

He chuckled. “I guess not.” He reached down and took your hand. “Come. Let’s sit down and talk. I haven’t seen you in two months. I missed you.”

You went willingly, smiling at him as you brushed lingering tears away. “I missed you too.”

He climbed back into the bed and slid under the thin hospital blanket before lifting it up for you to join him.

You felt a little squished as you squeezed into the bed meant for one, but it was cozy. With your body pressed against his right side, he was able to wrap his arm around you and pull you in close. You turned into him, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his torso. He’d lost some weight. He was thinner around the middle.

He pulled you in close and buried his nose in your hair, taking a moment to simply breathe you in. His body relaxed more and more with every passing second, soaking in the comfort of your presence that only you could give.

In all honesty, you felt more at peace in this moment than you had in months. Being with him had some effect on you that you couldn’t explain. It was lovely and you never wanted it to end.

“Where have you been?” he asked after a while, his voice husky with longing.

“Working,” you mumbled into his chest. “I’ve been in the forges working… I needed to be able to do something productive to get into a better headspace.”

“Is that why you didn’t come to see me?” His voice was hurt but sympathetic. You could tell that it had pained him that you didn’t come to visit him, but he understood needing space. You appreciated him for that.

You nodded. “I couldn’t come until I was done… Until I had something to offer you as my apology for everything I’ve put you through.” Your eyes flickered up at the cloth-wrapped arm still sitting on the table. “I brought it with me.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. I wasn’t sure if I should even come, but then your mother visited me and—”

“My mother?” He was astonished. “You mean the woman that hates you went to see you willingly?”

You couldn’t refrain from giggling. “Yeah. She came in to tell me that I should see you and she gave us her blessing in a weird way. She’s not happy with it, but she finally realized that she can’t really stop us if we want to be together. Anyways, she was the one who really convinced me to come. I wasn’t sure I should until she told me to. But, again, I couldn’t come empty-handed.”

“What did you bring me?”

You smiled softly at him. “Let me show you.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away from him and sliding off the bed. You made quick steps to the table where you’d left your creation waiting. You could see a small sliver of gold shimmering through a gap in the cloth. “It’s not much,” you said, wrapping your arms around the metallic prosthetic, “but it’s all I have to offer.” You took a deep breath and turned to him. “I worked on it for about a month and a half to make it perfect for you. We tried to get all the measurements right.” You carried it over and deposited it on the bed beside him. Taking great care, you unwrapped it slowly. The black metal shimmered in the light and the gold was as radiant as the sun. You heard Bucky’s sharp intake of breath but you couldn’t look up. “It’s not much, but I figured it’s a suitable replacement. Tony helped me with the wiring.” You could feel your nerves growing and you looked down. “A-A simple surgery will attach it to your body and nerves and it’ll be just like the old one only—you know—metal. But you’ll be able to feel things and move it just like you did your arm and I made it from vibranium so it’s indestructible and—”

“(y/n).” He took your hand to pause your rambling.

You swallowed and looked up at him. “Yes?” Did he hate it? Did he not want it? Had you made it for nothing? Your heart pounded in your chest.

His smile was soft as he gazed at you, his eyes dancing with light. “Thank you… This… This is more than I ever could’ve asked from you.” He moved his hand from yours and placed it on the metal prosthetic. His fingers traced over the embedded gold with a tenderness you’d only seen him use with you. “You made this for me… You made a new part of me…” He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

His head snapped up as the words poured out of your mouth.

It took you a moment to realize why they’d shocked him.

You’d finally said it.

_I love you._

After all this time, you finally told him. 

His lips were parted in quiet wonder. “You love me?” he whispered softly.

You could only nod. “With all my heart.” It was relieving to tell him. It’d felt like a secret lying heavy on your shoulders and, now that you’d finally told him, you were free of the burden. Because you did love him. You loved him more than you’d loved any other being. You loved him with every fiber of yourself and with everything you had. Why you hadn’t said it earlier, you didn’t know. But you were glad you’d said it now. Now it meant something.

He opened his arms to embrace you and you found a home in him once more. He held you close and hummed. “I love you too.” He pulled away just slightly to place a kiss on your lips.

A kiss that said, “I love you.”

A kiss that said, “I need you.”

A kiss that said, “I won’t ever let you go again.”

And that made you love him even more.


	26. She Almost Murders Someone (Again)

The dainty spring breeze that rustled through the leaves announced his arrival. The pomegranates above you seemed to hum in elation as the life drew nearer. You knew they loved you, but you could tell that the fruits were getting sick of all the death you emitted.

He was at the gate of your garden, the black metal of his hand unlatching the lock and pushing it open. You could see the gold shimmering in the light of the garden and reflecting back on his smiling face. 

“You’re late!” you called as you met him at the gate, grinning ear to ear. 

His laugh was music in the air as he took slow, leisurely steps towards you. Wherever he stepped, a patch of green grass dotted with flowers bloomed. Life followed him into your small, sacred corner of the Underworld and you welcomed it with open arms. “No, you’re just early.” He stopped right in front of you and smiled softly. “Besides, is that any way to greet me? It’s been ages since I’ve been down here.”

“I will greet you as I so please in my own realm,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his torso pulling him into a hug and breathing him in. “But I did miss you.”

“I missed you too.” The metal around your waist was a cold stranger, but you knew who it was attached to. It would take some time to get used to it, but you knew it was just a matter of time. “How have you been?”

“Nothing new to really report.” You let him go and beamed. “How about you? The arm looks like it’s working…”

“It is. It’s like I never lost the old one.” He lifted his new hand up to the Underworld’s ceiling where crystals glowed faint with light, letting the shimmer fall between his fingers. “It’s… Interesting. A little heavier than I remember, but then again I was without a limb for about two months. It will take some time to get used to the weight again, but I’m glad to have it because it was made for me by someone I love.” 

A smile graced your lips and you held onto his arm, the flesh one that was beside you. Closing your eyes, you let a soft sigh fall from your lips. This was nice. You’d missed the feeling of his arms around you, but you knew why you had to abstain from it. 

It’d been a month since you’d gifted Bucky his arm and he’d had the surgery to attach it. It’d been a month that he’d had both his arms again. It’d been a month since he attended physical therapy classes to regain his full range of motion with it. It’d been a month that he’d been whole again. It’d been a month that you’d been forced to stay away from him.

With his physical therapy and your new job, there wasn’t time for you to see him on a regular basis. While he stayed in the hospital, you played catch up; collecting the recently deceased souls, filing the other deceased souls, and cleaning up Tartarus and the Underworld from your sickness and father’s escape. It seemed like the work was never done. Even with Peggy, Clint, and your sisters helping you, it never ended. You popped into the Olympian apartment where Bucky was staying whenever you could, but you rarely caught him at a good time and you could never stay. 

You missed his warmth. You missed him.

He hadn’t changed much in the month you’d been apart. He still had the same smile and life about him, but his appearance had changed. His hair had grown out, you noticed. It was long enough to frame his face and you could run your fingers through it. He’d also grown out his beard a bit. The prickly stubble covered his jaw and gave him a rugged appearance. He looked older—matured by the loss of a limb and witnessing war, as brief as it had been. 

You squeezed his hand softly. “I like the new look,” you mused softly, reaching up to play with the long hair.

“You do?” He bent his neck down to give you better access. Looking up through his long lashes, his blue eyes held a sparkle of mischief. “I was thinking about cutting it.”

“Don’t you dare!” You laughed and tightened your grip on the strand, giving it a slight tug. “I like it! I wanna keep it for just a bit longer. It’s a good change.”

He chuckled. “Well, speaking of change, I’m assuming something has changed around here at least a little bit in the months I haven’t been here. You should show me around.”

“Well… Pom did bloom. Her fruits are just about ripe.” You gave him a smile and offered him your arm. “Will you allow me to escort you around my garden?”

“Of course, my love. I would be honored.” He looped his arm in yours and made a sweeping gesture towards the rest of the garden.

You couldn’t contain your giggles as you began to walk, life filling you once more. You rested your head on his arm as you walked, your pace slow and leisurely. You loved this. You loved him. The peace he brought you was unlike anything else. “I’m glad you’re here,” you mumbled softly. “I’m not looking forward to when you go.”

“Because you’ll be lonely?” His voice was warm but sad as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes softened.

“No… Well, yes. But no. It’s because I’ll have to work when you go.” You let out a pitiful laugh. “Being the god of death is so much harder than I would’ve thought. If it’s any consolation, it’s just until we can find a replacement, but who the Hades knows when that will be.” You let out a heavy sigh and slowed to a stop in front of your pomegranate tree. Gazing up at the plump red fruits, you couldn’t shake the weight that had fallen onto your shoulders. The thought of being smothered with the burden forever made you sad. 

Bucky let the heavy silence fall over you, his eyes growing sympathetic. “I… I wish there was something I could do to help you.”

“It’s okay. There’s nothing you could do.” You couldn’t blame him for his helplessness. You didn’t expect him to be able to do anything.

“Unless…”

“Unless what?” You tore your eyes from the leaves above you and turned to Bucky.

He was pondering something, his brow creased and determination filling his features. He was hesitant, yes, but you knew he was thinking something mad. “What if…” he started, his voice uncertain and small. “What if I was the replacement?”

Confusion wrote itself over your face and you turned to face him fully. “What?”

“What if I was the replacement?” he repeated, his voice building with enthusiasm. “What if I became the god of death?”

You snorted and shook your head. “Bucky, don’t make me laugh. You can’t be the god of death.”

“Why not?” He was rising to the occasion, his gestures becoming more animated as he spoke. “I’m only the god of spring and that job keeps me occupied for maybe three to six months at most. The rest of the year I’m just bored. I could take over the role of the god of death and do something useful. I could help ease your burden and be a part of the Under—”

“Bucky, no!” You shook your head. You couldn’t believe his words. There was no way. “You’re too young to be dealing in death. Besides, as much as I love you, I can’t let you stay down here. You’re too bright to be stifled in the dark.” You couldn’t imagine it: this bright, young god trapped in a place so dark and desolate. He just didn’t belong.

“No, I’m not. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, Doll. In my apartment, I realized that I don’t really wanna be apart from you any longer than I have to be. It’s… It’s lonely without you. I want to be here, in the Underworld. I like it here. And, if I ever miss life, I can go up to the Mortal World for a bit or to the garden here. I can do it. I can live here, with you. You say that this isn’t my place, but it is.” He reached down and took one of your hands in both of his. The chill of the metal and the warmth of the flesh anchored you to him, and you could see the determination in his eyes. “I belong here, right by your side, always.”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. He looked regal—he looked like a king. You could see it burning in his eyes. His mind had been made up. He wanted to stay here. He was hellbent on it. 

It made your heart ache. He loved you enough to give up his life above and live down here. No one had ever loved you so much. But you couldn’t let him. He couldn’t be trapped here.

No matter how badly you wanted him to.

You hung your head in shame. “No… As much as I love you, I can’t let you stay down here. I won’t allow it.” You hated to deny him this. He asked so little from you, and you couldn’t give him this simple thing.

He fell quiet and a heavy silence shrouded you. His grip tightened on your hand. He let out a settled breath. “Maybe you don’t have a choice.” He let go of your hand.

“Bucky?” Your eyes flickered up and locked on his figure just a moment too late.

The snap of the fruit being plucked from the branch above you was deafening. He pulled the pomegranate down and, with one powerful motion, tore it open. Red juice fell through his fingers like rivers of blood as the seeds poured out into his hands. A total of six landed in his flesh hand.

“Bucky, don’t—” 

He already had his hand up to his mouth, tossing the six seeds in. 

“Bucky!” You grabbed the pomegranate and tore it out of his grasp, but the damage had been done. You felt it—the new addition to your realm. It filled you with ice, chilling you to the core as another soul joined your kingdom. You stared at Bucky in horror. “Wh-What did you do? You idiot! Bucky, why would you do that?” Tears were pooling in your eyes as you lowered your head. You looked at his red-stained hands. The color might as well have been blood. It was a death sentence in and of itself.

“For us.” He reached forward and lifted your chin so you would look at him. His eyes were soft and he gave you a smile. Even now he looked paler, his skin losing its lively glow as he grew tainted by the Underworld. “After everything we’ve been through, we deserve our happily ever after, Doll. And that happily ever after won’t come unless I am right here, by your side, with you and helping you every step of the way.”

“You’re so stupid.” You shook your head and rushed him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him into a tight hug. “So, so stupid.” You buried your face in his chest, clinging to his shirt.

“But that’s why you love me.” He hugged you back with just as much ferocity as you did, holding you close with affection. “I ate the seeds. I’m a part of the Underworld now.”

You looked up at him and spared a weak smile. “I suppose you are.” You pulled away and took his hands in yours. “You ate six seeds. That’s enough to bind you to the Underworld partly.”

“Why not fully?”

“Because I say so.” You pressed your lips together. “I still can’t make you stay down here always. I won’t allow it. I understand your desperation to be here, but I also can’t bind you to the dark for eternity. You ate six seeds. Six seeds will be six months. For six months and six months only you will be bound to this place. For the rest of the year, you will be free to come and go as you please.”

His eyes lit up.

“However, I am going to strongly encourage that you use those six months to be up in the Mortal World. You still have a whole season you have to bring in and family and friends that hate it down here. They won’t be happy to know that you’re stuck down here for half a goddamn year.” 

Your words were laced with agitation and dismay at his predicament, but you couldn’t deny that some selfish part of you was happy he’d decided to stay here and committed so wholeheartedly. You couldn’t deny that your heart swelled at the thought of actually being able to keep him for half a year. You couldn’t deny that you looked forward to waking up next to him in the morning. You couldn’t deny that it made you yearn for the future.

His smile was lovely as he cupped your cheek. “I don’t care what they think. If Steve and Sam miss me so badly, they can just move down here. After all, one of your rivers needs a naiad and I’m sure Sam could find a tree to bind himself to. I want to be down here with you, and I’m happy I can stay. But…” 

There was always a “but” with him. You narrowed your eyes. “‘But’ what?”

His grin was filled with triumph as he brushed a stray hair away from your eyes. “If I’m going to be down here anyways, I might as well make myself useful, no? Maybe take a burden from your shoulders?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Bucky, no.”

“Bucky yes.” He chuckled. “Let me do you this kindness. I’m going to be stuck here anyways. Let me help you.” His eyes were pleading—begging. He wanted this. He wanted to do it. But he wouldn’t do it without your permission. That’s why he was asking.

You stared into his eyes and you realized that you couldn’t deny him this. You were tired. You needed it gone. He could take it, he insisted. His face was full of determination. He was ready. He knew his limits. He could do it. 

You just had to trust in him.

Your lips formed a thin line and you nodded your head. “Do it.”

He reached forward and took both your hands, his thumbs tracing small circles over your skin. Slowly, surely, he said, “_I, James Buchanan Barnes, accept the title and role of the god of death. I take on this role being of sound mind and of my own volition, therefore claiming all of its responsibilities and obligations. I swear to uphold the position and carry out its requirements until the end of my days.” His eyes locked on yours and he smiled ever so softly. “Allow me to embrace this position, and seal me as the god of death._”

It felt like your heart was being torn from your chest as death ripped itself from you. You only saw the black orb hovering in the air for a second before it sank into Bucky’s skin, right above his heart. 

He grunted with discomfort as his shoulders caved in. He pressed his hand flat against his chest as he applied pressure, trying to relieve the pain that came with the dominion. His skin dulled and greyed with the invading presence.

You gripped his shoulders tightly, ready to take it back should his body reject death. Your heart raced in your chest, anxiety building up in you. You could feel his life force growing weaker as death took root in his heart, crowding out the life. 

He gasped for breath, desperate for the life-sustaining oxygen. It wasn’t coming.

But then suddenly his breathing grew stronger. Suddenly he gripped you just as tightly as you had. Suddenly he had his strength again. Color returned to his skin slightly. The life flooded in again. 

He’d accepted the role.

You cried out with laughter, relief washing over you. “Oh, you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he confirmed, his voice strangled. “Just… That was a lot more than I was expecting.”

“Death usually is.” You smiled softly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I would do anything for you.” His arms encircled your waist and he pulled you in tight. With his hand on your cheek making you face him, he brought his lips down onto yours and kissed you.

You leaned into him, a lazy smile covering your lips. His warmth was something you’d never have to be without; his presence was something that was yours always; his love was something he gave to you and only you willingly.

And you were happy. For once, after so long, you had everything you could ever want. You had your family. You had your friends. Your family. Your life. Your Bucky. You had your pragma: your long-lasting love.

And there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be.

When you pulled away from him, you rested your forehead against his and your eyes fluttered shut. You stood like that for a moment, beneath the pomegranate tree, letting your breaths mingle as you bathed in his presence. With a small, satisfied smile on your face, you whispered, “Let’s go home.”

“Home,” he repeated, the word wistful and hoping on his tongue. 

“Yes… Home.” You took his hand in yours and tugged gently, leading him off to the mansion—off to both of yours’ home. Off to home where you could live with him and be loved.

And you couldn’t have asked for anything more.


	27. The Gods Live On

The Winter Solstice Gala, held to celebrate the gods’ reign and usher in a new year, was upon you. It was only months after Bucky had moved in with you—the happiest months of your life. 

Bucky was almost immediately integrated into the Underworld as fall set in just days after his promise after he ate those seeds and bound himself to the Underworld for half a year. This almost made it better. Having him with you always made it easier to get him acquainted with everything there was in the Underworld and train him in his new role.

You hardly had to do anything; he was a natural god of death. 

“It’s because life and death are so alike,” he said one day as you lay in bed together, your head nestled in the crook of his arm as you both read books. “I just know how it feels. It’s easy for me.”

He was good at leading souls down, providing them with a comforting figure as they made the voyage from the Mortal World to the Underworld. He was good at putting them at ease and getting them down in one piece. And what he wasn’t good at, Clint was there to lend his aide.

That also allowed Bucky to grow accustomed to the Underworld.

He moved like he owned the place. He learned it inch by inch, grew as close to it as you did. He loved the place. He loved his home. It was amazing. You’d expected the dark and the death to have some effect on him, but there was nothing. He moved like he’d always lived there. It was beautiful.

His clothes joined yours in your closet. His toiletries took up residence in the bathroom. He claimed the left side of the bed and brought his own pillow to join yours. He made your home his own, living alongside you in perfect harmony. 

It was blissful. You couldn’t believe your eyes every morning when you woke up every morning to see his face sleeping just inches from yours. You found it amazing that you could just swoop in and peck him on the lips whenever you wanted. You found it surreal that he would eat every meal with you and go on strolls around the perimeter of your kingdom whenever you wished. You found it beautiful that you could go to bed every night, holding him in your arms and fall asleep to the sound of his steady heart.

For four months you operated like this, growing accustomed to living together. For four months you saw few others. For four months you knew nothing but peace.

But, of course, peace must be broken.

Carol personally delivered the invitation.

The Winter Solstice Gala was to be held near the end of December on the shortest day and longest night of the year.

You had half a mind to decline the invitation as you had so many years before, but Bucky had accepted before you could put a word in. 

“I think it’d be fun,” he later said when you caught him with an accusatory glare. “Besides…” His arms snaked around your waist and he buried his nose in your neck. “I want to see you in a regal dress.”

You couldn’t deny him so you ended up stuck in a scarlet gown, impatiently waiting at the bottom of your stairs for Bucky to finish getting ready.

You fiddled with the fabric of your dress. You had to admit that it was gorgeous. In the traditional ballgown style, it had a wide skirt that swept over the ground when you walked. Fabricated flowers covered the skirt and they crawled up the fabric. The corset top cinched at the waist, giving way for a slit to fall through your cleavage, accenting it just right without revealing anything. The sleeves hung off your shoulders, leaving your skin and collar bones exposed to the cool air. You wore no jewelry or accessory save for your golden crown that rested atop your head.

Your feet ached already. You didn’t like your heels. You didn’t really care much for this dress either, but it was required for such a gala. All the other goddesses would be wearing something similar and you refused to be the odd one out. 

You huffed and shifted your weight from foot to foot. “Bucky!” you called up the stairs. “Hurry up! We’re gonna be late!” Unlikely, but you were desperate to get him out.

“I’m coming!” he yelled back. “I’m sorry, Doll.” His voice was growing louder. “This tie was giving me difficulty.” His footsteps echoed in the halls as he came to the top of the staircase.

You turned to face him and your heart stopped. 

You’ve said it before and you’ll say it again: Bucky Barnes looks damn good in black. His suit was a midnight color, as dark as the night sky. His hair was combed back and gelled away from his face. His blue eyes pierced your soul and stole your breath away. You vowed to yourself then to burn every article of clothing he had that was not black.

He gave you a sheepish smile as he descended down the stairs. “You look gorgeous though.” He stopped a foot away from you and took both your hands in his. “Red really is your color.” 

You had to peel your eyes off of his figure and snap yourself back to reality. Giving a flustered cough, you nodded. “Yes and… Er, black is your color also. You look good, Buck. _Really_ good.” You could feel heat pooling beneath the skin of your cheeks as you averted your eyes. 

He laughed at you and squeezed your hands. “Thank you. Now, shall we head out? I know we only have to teleport, but I don’t really want to wait in a long ass line to get in.”

“Sure! Just…” You mustered up your power and blinked. Opening your eyes again, you found yourself on the steps of the palace, surrounded by two dozen other gods and nymphs. Your ears were greeted with a muted murmur of excitement. 

Everyone was dressed to the tens. Fancy gowns made your head swim with colors and elegant suits gave the night a sharpness you found enthralling.

Bucky nudged your side, gesturing up to the front doors where Queen Carol and Queen Maria stood basking in the light of the ballroom.

Carol looked splendid in her white gown, radiating power as she beamed down at the gathering of gods below. “The Winter Solstice is the time of year in which we gods toast to the new light ahead. On our darkest day, we are able to look forward to a time that will be brighter. The light will only grow on our great empire, shining bright for all to see. Now come! Let us be merry and dance!”

Short, sweet, and simple; just how you liked it.

Your sister and her wife made way for the other gods, allowing them to file into the ballroom. 

You and Bucky fell towards the back of the line, slowly climbing your way to the palace. As you passed through the doors, Carol reached out and took your hand. Giving it a gentle tug, she smiled and nodded you in. “Thanks for coming,” she whispered as you passed.

You nodded to her, silently thanking her for the invite, before turning into the ballroom and joining the party.

It was already in full swing. The muses perched on a raised dais on the far wall and played their instruments with expertise. Their jaunty melody filled the air, spurring the gods around to join in dancing on the dance floor. The room was painted gold and midnight blue streamers fell through the air. Balls of magic cast the golden glow over the room. Hovering in the air, they cast dancing shadows whenever they moved. A long table filled with sweets, snacks, and drinks lined the side wall. 

Of course that was your first destination.

You and Bucky seemed to be on the same wavelength as you both made a beeline for the food. Your mouth was already watering at the thought of the sweet ambrosia on your tongue. 

Bucky laughed as he fell to a stop, picking up an ambrosia square. “We’re pathetic!” he cried, taking a bite out of it. “We could be dancing and instead we came for the food.” 

You couldn’t contain your laughter. “You know why? Because we’re smart. We can’t dance on empty stomachs. Besides, the food is best here on Olympus. I like the food in the Underworld but there’s just something about this that makes my heart happy.”

“True.” 

“Just stay away from the pomegranates,” you warned. “I’m not having any more of that nonsense.”

“You got it, Doll.” He smirked as he popped the rest of the square into his mouth and turned for more.

You could’ve stayed there all night, but it wasn’t long at all before you were interrupted. 

“I thought I might find you here,” chimed an amused voice from behind you. You could hear the smile in her words.

Both you and Bucky froze. Turning around slowly, you locked your eyes on Winnifred as she stood apart from you, her arms folded over her chest and her lips quirked up in a smirk. The green of her gown gave her an earthly glow, making the brown of her hair glow with life.

Bucky swallowed heavily. “M-Mother!”

“Hello, James. Hello, (y/n).” She bowed her head to you respectfully.

You nodded back. “It’s good to see you again, Winnifred.”

“And you.” She looked up at Bucky, her eyebrow cocked. “I haven’t seen you in months, James. I was beginning to worry.” Her words were prodding and filled with an unspoken question.

“Yeah… I’ve been spending a lot of my time down in the Underworld.”

“Ah, yes. I did hear about that. I can feel the death on you.” Her face screwed up in mild disgust. “You’re the new god of death.” It wasn’t a question so much as it was an accusation. She didn’t like it one bit.

You nodded. “He volunteered to take on the responsibility. I told him what it meant, and he still wanted it. Who was I to deny him?” 

“I am not objecting,” Winnifred said, her voice calm and cold. “I acknowledge that my son is a grown man fully capable of making his own decisions.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Bucky said wrapping his arm around your waist. “I am very happy with my new role. Being the god of death is easy for me and I can do something for the mortals that matters.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t visit every once in a while,” she said with a teasing smirk.

You and Bucky exchanged a glance. He hadn’t told his mom about his situation. 

This wasn’t going to end well.

“Actually… Funny story.” Bucky laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “My new job requires that I… Uh… I have to stay in the Underworld for half the year. It’s mandatory, non-negotiable. So… During fall and winter I really can’t come to visit you.”

Her lips curled down in a frown. “And why not? I’d assume that even then you’d still be able to spare a day to come up and see me.”

“I can’t, Mother. I’m sorry.” He lowered his gaze. “I ate food of the Underworld. Six pomegranate seeds. I knew what it meant, and I still did it.”

You studied the goddess’ gaze warily, gripping Bucky’s arm and preparing to pull him away should she lash out.

Her face, however, was unreadable. She was silent for a few moments before she took a deep breath. “You swear that you weren’t tricked into eating it? You really wanted to be down there so badly that you decided to revoke your right to choose where you are?”

“I did. I do,” he confirmed, pulling you close to him. “I am happy there. And I can always come during the spring and summer. But for the cold months, I want to be down in the Underworld with (y/n). I made my own choice, and that is what I wanted.”

“Then I am happy for you.”

Her words made your heart stop and you searched her face for any ounce of sarcasm or anger.

You found none. A soft smile had overtaken her features as she looked between you and her son. “I am happy for the both of you, and I only wish you the best.” She nodded her head once more. “Now you’ll have to excuse me. I’m afraid that there are more people I have promised my attention to. I will see you in the spring, my son.” She curtsied to you before backing away and joining the ball.

You stood dumbstruck beside Bucky, your mouth agape. “What the fuck just happened?” you asked, your voice dripping with confusion. 

“I think,” he said slowly, his voice tainted by a hint of uncertainty, “my mother just gave us her blessing.” He shook his head. “Whatever! I’m not going to question it!” 

“Me neither!” You turned away from where she had gone and looked at Bucky, a wild laugh escaping your mouth. 

“I think that’s all the crazy I need from the night. I’ll be checking in with her later to make sure she’s feeling well.”

“Probably a smart idea,” you laughed. 

“Oh man…” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a new song filling the air. The tune was slower than the last and gentle in the room. At once partners flooded the floor. Pairs of lovers held each other as they began to dance in time. 

Bucky coughed into his hand as he looked out at them. “Seems like fun…” he mused softly, his eyes sliding to glance at you.

“It does,” you agreed softly, looking back at him. 

He paused for a moment before turning to you and bowing. His hand extended for yours, giving you the chance to take it. “May I have this dance, my love?” he asked, his voice tender and kind.

You nodded as you placed your hand in his. “It would be my honor.” 

His fingers curled around yours and he stood straight. Taking slow, deliberate steps, he walked you to the dance floor.

Gathering your skirts in one hand and grabbing his, you placed your other on his shoulder.

His warm hand grasped yours and his other found a home on your waist. Pulling you flush against him, he smiled down at you. “Just let me lead,” he mumbled as he began to pull you into a waltz. 

A soft piano melody filled the air, the notes filling your heart with a slow tranquility. The world around you slowly melted away, leaving you with only him. The scent of him filled your nose—the freshest flowers and the richest earth. His body was warm in such a close proximity. His hand was strong. Nothing other than him mattered in that moment.

You stared up into his blue eyes. They never once left yours.

You traced every one of his features. You knew you’d never get enough of it.

You’d never get enough of _him_. Truly, he was the love of your life.

How had you gotten so lucky, you wondered as you waltzed around the floor. How had you managed to entrap this man—this god—and make him fall so deeply in love with you? How had you found him? 

He really was the only one for you. You couldn’t believe you’d wasted so much time on those who were unworthy of your love. You couldn’t believe that a love like this actually existed.

You loved him. You really did. Where you had been strong before, you were stronger now because of him. You felt it every day when you woke up: the strength and power he gave you through his support.

A year ago, you wanted nothing to do with him.

But now you never wanted him to leave.

You squeezed his hand softly, pulling him closer to your body.

He squeezed yours and smiled in response, twirling you in place. 

For hours you danced, letting him lead you in dizzying circles until he waltzed you out of the ballroom to a balcony that overlooked the city.

The music inside quieted to a dull hum and you and Bucky were left alone as the doors closed behind you of their own accord. You slowed to a stop before the marble of the railing. 

He didn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to let you go. You basked in the other’s presence, simply enjoying the silence. 

You decided to be the first to break it, mumbling three little words. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he echoed, his hand letting go of yours and cupping your cheek softly.

You leaned into him, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Thank you,” you whispered in the night.

“For what?”

“For being with me. For never letting me go or giving up. I can’t imagine it was easy, knowing everything I put you through. So just thank you for everything.” You knew you’d never find the words to tell him exactly how much you appreciated him, but this would just have to do. 

He pulled you close and rested his forehead against yours. “We’ve been through too much for me to let you go now, Doll.”

“I know we have. But I want you to know that I never want you to let me go. I love you too much.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere any time soon.” He fell silent for a bit, his brow furrowing in hesitation. “Actually… There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s… It’s kind of a big question. I’ve been waiting for the perfect time, but I never knew when I’d catch you in the moment. I guess that now is as good a time as any, right?” He was nervous. You could tell it in the way his eyes wouldn’t stay in one spot for long and how he shuffled his feet. His hand dipped into his suit pocket and slowly pulled out a small, rectangular, velvet box. 

Your breath hitched as your eyes glued themselves to the box. “Bucky…” Your voice was small and trembling, the lump in your throat keeping it from being anything more. Your heart pounded in your chest.

He shuffled his feet and passed the box in between his hands, the black of his palm swallowing the black of the box. His blue eyes found yours and held your gaze. “Look, I know that this probably isn’t how you’d envisioned your life going—I mean, who could’ve predicted the Queen of the Underworld getting mixed up with some minor god of spring—but I couldn’t imagine my life any other way. I love you so, so much (y/n), and I want you in my life, to have and to hold, for forever. You will have me as long as the stars still burn in the sky. You will have me as long as man roams the Mortal World. You will have me as long as Olympus stands. You will have me as long as we both shall live. So…” He cleared his throat and slowly sank to the ground onto one knee. His hands held out the box as he stared up at you, his eyes begging. “Will you, (y/n) Aidoneus, the unseen one, eldest daughter of the titans Kronos and Rhea, goddess of the dead and wealth, Queen of the Underworld, and the love of my life, do me the honor of becoming my wife—my beloved queen—and spend eternity with me?” He only then cracked open the box and your heart crawled up into your throat.

Staring up at you, encased in a band of black vibranium, was a perfect and raw ruby, red as blood and the size of a large pebble.

The stone was shockingly familiar and you were surprised you even recognized it. “Is that…?”

“It is.” His smile was bright. “It’s the ruby you threw at me all that time ago. Believe me, I can’t believe I kept it either. But I figured that there was nothing better to propose with than the first gift you gave me put into a band of my own creation.” At your bewildered expression, he smiled sheepishly. “I asked Tony to teach me how to make a ring so I could give you this. But that’s beside the point. I need to know what you say. Will you marry me?”

Staring down at him, you could picture the future. You could see your ring on his finger and his ring on yours. You could see the his-and-hers crowns. You could see two of everything as he only solidified his place in your life. You could see yourself waking up with him, eating with him, loving with him, doing everything with him. You could see him as a permanent part of your life, there forever more.

You could see him standing by your side as your husband and your king, ruling the Underworld together, bound by nothing but love and adoration. You could see him as yours, and you as his.

And it made you smile. 

You wiped at the tears that were flooding your eyes and nodded. “Yes,” you said softly. 

His eyes lit up as he looked at you hopefully. “Yes?”

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes.”

He didn’t hesitate to slide the ring on your finger and stand to pull you in a hug. With his arms wrapped tightly around your torso, he kissed you and laughed into your mouth.

You held him as close as physically possible, just basking in him. “I love you,” you said again when you broke apart for air.

“And I love you. Always.”

Your heart was happy. You were happy. Knowing that Bucky was yours and yours alone filled you with something indescribable. 

He loved you. You loved him. He was yours. You were his. And that was enough to make you happy.

Because now you had him for as long as you both shall live.

For all eternity in your very own _happily ever after_.


End file.
